Artificial Intelligence
by lynn.reist
Summary: Diplomatic affairs of state are surprisingly less complicated than a woman's mind. Reefie.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** _Taking a short break from epic-angst-fest Yuffentine to post this short introduction to a potential Reefie I've been mulling over. I'm not sure if I'll continue it, but if you guys think it has potential, it might make me consider doing so. Well, without further ado; I give you "Artificial Intelligence"._

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Stress is something I am invariably used to dealing with. It is regularly remedied by the disassembly of one of the older models of Cait Sith, a shot of dry gin, and a good night's rest. However, this time around, the stress was not due to a communications error, or missing paperwork. No, it was far more grave than that. You see, Vincent Valentine was missing, and this boded ill for me, for he was the WRO's greatest asset, next to myself and pulling out just ahead of one Yuffie Kisaragi. It wasn't because he was any more skilled than she; they both had their specialties and both were deadly in their own ways. Rather, it was because honestly, the ninja could be a bit of a brat, child, drama queen, kleptomaniac, abomination...

But that's getting away from the point. Vincent Valentine; world's latest savior, best shot this side of Junon and the WRO's prized possession (my prized possession) was missing. Gone. Disappeared. I could_ feel_ my hair turning gray; and at 38, too.

Of course, next to the fact that I didn't have my best man to help eliminate, or at least train others to eliminate the now leaderless DeepGround soldiers, I also get to deal with the world's greatest terror, now that Sephiroth was dead and Omega was back in the Lifestream: You see, just as I was a good employee less due to Vincent's vanishing, Yuffie Kisaragi was one best friend short, and was not (to be kind) taking it _well_.

As you can probably assume, her_ not taking it well_ meant _I_ was also forced to share in her self-pity. It came in the form of random visits to my office. Sometimes she was hopeful and optimistic (a trait I sometimes wanted to squash, selfishly) but other times she was on the verge of tears. I had taken a habit of timing her so called random visits, and had it equated into a pattern that proved that her idea of random was not all that random at all. A quick look at the clock informed me she would be coming in any sec--

"Reeeeeevvvvee."

Marvelous; today she was feeling apathetic. I reached for the drawer in my desk that contained a various collection of medication and yanked it open. The pill bottles rattled. "Miss Kisaragi," I greeted half heartedly. "What can I help you with?"

I didn't invite her to sit down, but she did anyway.

"Has Vincent called?"

I wondered if telling her that Vincent's phone probably died three days ago would be too insensitive, but didn't have a chance either way, as Yuffie began weeping, her elbows propped on my desk. "I know he hasn't, you don't have to spare my feelings. I don't understand Reeve, wouldn't he want us to know he's okay? Doesn't he know I care?"

I awkwardly reach across and pat her hand. "Vincent likes to keep to himself," I said. I didn't think it was much of an assurance, but at least I wasn't suggesting he was dead. The idea brought a whole new set of stresses to the forefront of my thought.

She didn't look encouraged at all, in fact she sulked, shirking down in her chair. "Heh, go ahead; tell me he might be dead."

I couldn't help but let the little look of surprise claim my face at her very precise reading of my thoughts. Coincidence, really, but it astounded me no less.

"I know, alright?" Her eyes flashed up to catch my gaze, and I was sharply aware of the steely lilac-gray eyes that stared at me, as well as the tears that rimmed them. "I know he probably dragged himself to _her_ cave to lick his wounds, and I _know_ he might be dead."

"Yuffie..." I should have known better than to try and interrupt her, but something within me couldn't stand what she was saying and what the words were doing to her.

"It's just no one has the guts to tell me. So tell me, Reeve. Tell me he's dead." Her fist dropped onto the desk with a thud.

"We don't know that." My voice was less sure than I thought it would sound, but I kept my gaze fixed on hers. "For all we know, Vincent could be on his way back to Edge this very instant."

She looked at me through cold eyes, and she suddenly looked ten years older, weighed down with the pain of a woman twice her age. "He's not."

However bad I felt for her, I could not ignore my annoyance at her deadpan dismissal of hope, when just yesterday she had been all rainbows and sunshine at the idea of letting 'Vinnie' take his time and come back when he was ready. I clucked my tongue irritably and turned from her, rolling my desk chair to the bookcase. I grabbed a stack of them that had been held together with an elastic and a note from the library. It was on horribly acidic green copy paper, and the librarian's handwriting was messy—still I could discern the memo's general phrases. "I received your message, Mr. Tuesti. Here are some books on the topic you asked about, all written by the top researchers in the field. My best regards, sir. I hope you feel better soon." I ground my teeth. Whoever I had asked to fetch these books had told the librarian they were for me. Excellent: apparently now I was having trouble coping with grief.

It was in my newly developed sense of annoyance that I tossed the books carelessly onto my desk, watching abstractly as they slid in front of Yuffie's face. Of course, had I not been so consumed in my internal rage at life as a whole, I would have stopped before acting so brashly and considered that tossing self-help books at an obviously distraught female may not have been the most sensitive thing I could have chosen to do.

She looked under the god-awful green note and read the first title aloud. "Grief: They're Gone, Move On…?" Her eyes rose to my face, just as my sensitivity thought leapt into the forefront of my mind. "What the hell is this, Tuesti?"

"Those? Oh, for…" My eyes rose to the ceiling. "I thought that…" _Shit, shit shit. _"You know, just some resources…" Who else could I blame this on? Oh bugger, Reeve, you've gone and shot your own arm again. Or is it foot? Arm? Foot? Arm? Wait—arm? Shalua! Dead! …ish. "Shelke!" I blurted.

Yuffie's head tilted.

"They're for Shelke. You know, coping with Shalua being all incapacitated, and all. I thought, what with you living with her over at Seventh Heaven, you could deliver them for me?"

The ninja eyed me warily, but nodded once. "Yeah, I guess."

I did not guard the breath of relief that escaped me.

_Dodged._

_

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_**Author's Note:**_ Well, what did you think? Is it worth continuing with? I'm not 100 percent sold on my voice of Reeve, although I've been told I write him well in the past. Well, I guess we'll see!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **_Wow, everyone: I got such a huge and welcoming response to this story! It's really very exciting. Lots of people are surprised at my jump to a new pairing, but to those of you still looking for more Yuffentine, this is by no means saying that there will be no more Yuffie/Vincent love from Lynn. I don't have it in me to never write Yuffie and Vincent ever again. I still love them!_

_However, here we are, with another chapter of Reeve/Yuffie. Hope you all enjoy as much as you did the first time. remember, i am knew to the pairing and to the dynamic, and I need as much help as I can possibly get. Please do not hesitate to concrit me to death if you feel you must. I'm learning!_

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_

I was never quite sure why I had hired her. Every once in a while, when she came back from a mission, having gotten nothing done, I would toss the options around. Was it just to have a pretty face in the office? I wouldn't put passed myself to hire her simply for the opportunity to _look_ at her. Was it her up-beat personality and infectious laugh? Also high on the list of potential reasons. There was never a time, even in the very saddest of days that the Wutaiin princess did not have fire in her belly. It certainly wasn't because she was good at what she did. She could wield a Shuriken with a fair amount of grace, but for a ninja, her balance was lacking and for a spy... well, Yuffie had yet to perfect the concept of being stealthy, which required the ability to remain _quiet _for large periods of time.

I'm being unfair. I think I've stated before that I have a great respect for Yuffie and her ninja stars. I've been at the receiving end of their barrage more than once, for reasons I would prefer not to relive at this (or any) given moment.

Needless to say, she is a great asset to the WRO, at least she was, when she was being helpful. Since her partner, Vincent Valentine, had taken off, however, she was little more use than a four-year old who couldn't understand where Grandma went; and figured she was just in Florida, like every other February.

I am the Commissioner of the World Regenesis Organization. It takes a lot of credentials to obtain and maintain a role of this authority. I am not, and let me make myself as clear as possible; I am _not_ a grief-counselor, babysitter, or a shoulder to cry on. I am a grown man. I am a professional. I should not have to be concerned for my own mental welfare every three and half hours when in a blaze of color, my subordinate comes bursting into my office, reaming out the world for her misfortune.

* * *

"You know, you're really kind of dorky," she said, voice flat.

I didn't look up from my computer monitor. "Yuffie."

"Gee, nice way to greet a friend, Reeve."

I squashed my urge to snap at her and tell her I was busy and slowly slid my eyes to the doorway in which she was standing. She was dressed in her regular combination of tank-top and short-shorts, as well as a pair of standardized WRO combat boots. In her hand was a shiny black stapler.

"Is that my stapler?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at the fastening device.

"It could be," she uttered nonchalantly. "That's not why I'm here. I'm taking a few days off."

My eyebrows arch. "I trust you've done the required vacation request paperwork and had it approved by Human Resources?"

"No can do, boss-man. It's kind of an emergency."

"Family?"

The way she rolls her eyes to the ceiling and pauses tells me it's a lie when she hesitantly squeaks out a "sorta".

"You need to fill out the request form like the rest of them," I said, turning my attention back to the game of solitaire I was quickly losing.

"But Reeve!"

I hit the 'x' in the top right hand corner of the solitaire window, and I was suddenly confronted by the depressing sight of my over-flowing email in-box and a slight glimpse of my desktop, which was a photo Tifa had taken at Marlene's 7th birthday earlier that year. "No 'buts', Yuffie."

I highlight the junk mail, skimming the subject lines with slight amusement. 'From the bank of Strife… What's your credit rating?... Are you lonely?... Make your penis grow three inches longer…'

"Yuffie, is there a reason you feel the need to read my personal emails?" I commented, realizing she was now behind my desk and her chin was hovering above my shoulder.

"Little man problems, hmm?" she said, and I felt her disgustingly female hand pat my shoulder in a disgustingly pitying way. Of course had it not been the third time that day that she had questioned my… manhood… I would have laughed it off and made a similar joke at my own expense. This was, however, a step too far.

"Get out of my office."

"Bite me."

I spun my chair around to face her, pleased at the shocked look on her face as she stumbled backward. "I would be careful, Miss Kisaragi, of how you address me."

"You're not the boss of me," she spat back, sticking out her tongue. It got caught half way out, however, when she rethought her comment and slowly retracted it back into her mouth.

I smirked and folded my arms across my chest smugly as she silently fumed about the fact that I was, indeed, the boss of her. I was about to comment on my triumph when my phone rang shrilly from on top of the desk. I reached blindly for it and sighed a greeting. "Reeve Tuesti." It was my secretary.

"Mr. Tuesti there is a Ms. Lockheart on the phone for you."

I felt a sudden weight lift off my chest, and hoped beyond all hope that Tifa had good news. "Connect her, please," I said, as calmly as I could muster. I was trying exceptionally hard to keep my face neutral, because I knew what false hope did to Yuffie, and really, it was rather depressing. Her face would get all bright and for a fleeting second she looked like the woman she had been before she had lost her friend. She was bright and hopeful and… and then, when Cloud or Cid went to check if he was in a potential location and came home empty handed, it looked like Barret had wound up and socked her in the gut with his bionic arm, leaving her with the feeling that her insides were mashed into goop.

I heard the background noises change, from busy office bustle to the scream of a seven year old whose hair was just pulled by a twelve year old. "DENZEL!" I chuckled, wincing slightly.

"Reeve is that you?"

"Yes, Tifa, it's me." I saw Yuffie's face lighten out of the corner of my eye, and I couldn't help but feel a little defeated. It wasn't that I wasn't glad she was smiling, but I knew where this was going to lead.

"Cid took Shelke and Cloud to Nibleheim to try the mansion again. Could you please tell Yuffie to come by the bar when she's done work and make sure the kids get home in one piece?"

I sighed in irritation. "I'm in the middle of something important, why couldn't you tell her yourself? She has a phone- I know for a fact because _I_ pay her bill."

"Because she'll listen to you, Reeve."

I sighed again, and I realized how whiney I must have sounded. I vaguely registered the sound of a 'click-bang' in the background, but paid no attention to it. "I take it you're going with them, then?"

The 'click-bangs' stopped for a moment, and Yuffie's voice piped up, demanding to know where they were going. I ignored her.

"Yes, Shelke too."

"She's going to be upset."

"I know, Reeve, but if Vincent's in worse shape than she thinks… well… I don't think he would want her to see him like that."

I knew what she was really talking about, but of course I wouldn't dare speak it out loud, not with Yuffie in my office, making irritating noises while I tried to speak on the phone. My annoyance suddenly caught up with me, and without turning I tried to swat at her and make her stop whatever it was she was doing.

"Reeve! You just touched my ass!"

I breathe heavily into the phone.

"That's a violation of my personal space!"

"Tifa, will you hold for a moment."

"Sure, Reeve."

I pressed the hold button calmly and set the phone gently on top of the desk. The moment it was out of my hand, however, I stood up quickly from my chair and rounded on her; my intent to make it known just how little ass she had to touch, and how she shouldn't assume that men were really all that into tom-boy brats who acted like children, but something stopped me. Something strangely resembling the outline of a chocobo on my wall. Something strangely resembling the outline drawing of a chocobo in staples on my wall. Something that _was_ the outline drawing of a chocobo in staples on my wall.

My teeth ground together. "Get. Out."

"Where is Tifa going? Did they find him? Are they looking for him? Have they left yet?"

I very much wanted to take her by the ear and _drag_ her out of my office, but my eyes snapped to her face and remembered my conversation with Tifa, and why I had been so careful of her feelings before.

I had to remind myself that _before_ Vincent had disappeared, I had actually enjoyed Yuffie's company; that _before_ Vincent had disappeared, Yuffie had been tolerable, even pleasant.

"Tifa needs you to watch Marlene and Denzel this afternoon when they come home from school."

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. "Why can't I go with them?"

My eyes flickered toward the phone on the desk. "She really needs you to do this favor for her, Yuffie."

She frowned deeper, and I knew she must have been feeling entirely helpless.

"He'll come home…"

She cut me off. "When he wants to; I know." She folded her arms over her chest and cast a look out the window, through the sliced view my blinds provided.

You know, for all of her moments of complete immaturity, I had to wonder at the way she intuitively knew the exact thoughts of the people around her. She proved this to me time and time again, and this instance was no exception.

"You must think I'm just a whiney little kid."

I nodded unsympathetically.

She cursed at me. "Listen, I just want him home, okay?"

I approached her tentatively and eased the stapler out of her hands. "I know, Yuffie. We _all_ want Vincent to come home." Just saying the words reminded me of the missions hinging upon his return; the structure of training that _Vincent_ had developed to suit _his_ needs as their teacher. No one else was qualified to train these men in the proper style of warfare that could take out large groups of enemies at once. I was going to have to approach Rufus and try and force a merger… The Turks were the best of the best, and without Vincent, Tseng was the next best option. However, working with ShinRa was not something I was ready to resume, after such a short time of 'neutral' ground concerning ShinRa and the WRO.I shuddered slightly. "Who knows, maybe they'll find him in Nibleheim today."

"They've checked there three times, Reeve. If they were smart they'd go to the waterfall," she muttered.

"The waterfall?"

"Oh come on, Mr. McBroods-a-lot takes off, and no one thinks to look in the most obvious place on the whole freaking Planet?"

"Lucrecia's Cave."

"Exacto-mundo, Reevey." She half heartedly poked me in the chest. "This is why they pay you the big bucks, boss-man."

I made a face as she left my office, and didn't bother scolding her when she slammed the door as she went. I picked up the phone and reconnected Tifa. "Tifa, when you head over to the Nible Area… Yeah that's right. It can't hurt to try. I'm going to stop by the bar and make sure the kids are okay, alright? No, she needs some time to cool off. Yep, I'll see you tonight, Tifa. Stay safe."

She hung up and I switched lines to ring up my secretary, who seemed flustered. "Pemille? I'm taking off for the rest of the afterno—what do you _mean_ she's threatening the UPS guy?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Yeaaaahh, I think I botched it up with this one. Yuffie doesn't feel like she should... although she is stressed and acting out and I guess that's how I wanted her to be. Sigh. lol. Advice or encouragements are greatly needed. lol._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**_ Well, it was a bit longer of a wait, and you have the University of Guelph to that for that *fist shake*. Anyway, here's the next chapter, which I hope you all enjoy as much as you have the last two. _

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I had some time before the kids were scheduled to get home from school, and so I was obliged to spend the rest of the afternoon doing what every man of my position should be doing on a Thursday afternoon: Slamming my head into the stall door in the men's bathroom, with the trash can strategically arranged under the door-handle to keep any prospective urinaters from disturbing me.

I suppose I should explain, before you begin to question the state of my mental stability. It began shortly after I had finished apologizing to the UPS delivery man for Yuffie's absurd behaviour, while I was on my way to a council meeting to discuss the municipality's decision to build a new highway between Edge and Junon.

On any other day I would have left my PHS in my office for a meeting such as this: there was bound to be several hours of discussion and planning, and any phone calls I received would simply have to go through my secretary first. However, considering the situation and the fact that several members of AVALANCHE were in an airship headed to Nibleheim to find the one and only man in the world whose appearance could make or break the rest of WRO history (at least that's how it felt), I figured that that was one interruption the councilmen would just have to live with.

So, with PHS on hand and three or four files tucked under my arm, I made my way toward the meeting room, where the fate of infrastructure awaited my mercy. I was not expecting to be driven off course, however, by a foreboding thought that _maybe_ I should make sure Yuffie didn't need anything (or feel the need to get into trouble) while I wasn't in my office for her to annoy. I glanced at my watch as I entered the elevator, my finger finding the fourth floor button. I had a few minutes before I was officially late, and with my position being what it was, no one dared accuse me of such. Yet, as much as I knew I could probably do nothing to prevent mass genocide at the hands of Yuffie; I felt it was important to check, as a concerned third party, and as her friend.

I figured I would check for her in the training room, because that was where she was scheduled to be that afternoon. This of course did not suggest she would inevitably be there; rather that it was more of a starting point. I swiped my ID card in through the reader and proceeded quietly through the hall toward the men's locker room, nodding to a pair of WRO officers as I moved toward the door. "Hello boys."

"Mr. Tuesti," they replied, nodding back. I kept walking, but faltered when one hesitantly stopped me. "Sir, there's a bit of a problem in there," he said, just as I raised my ID to enter.

I swallowed. "What _kind_ of problem?" I couldn't hide the frustration in my voice, because I had half a mind of who was causing it.

"Well, Kisaragi's in there, and..."

"Yuffie..." I growled under my breath. "Nevermind, gentlemen, I'll drag her out by her ear."

"But sir..." I was gone. I knew he probably had something important to tell me, but I was too busy trying to figure out _why_ a female ninja had banished the _male_ officers from their locker room.

I pushed through the door and burst into the room, eyebrows drawn and fists clenched, ready for battle. I stopped when I got in, however, for she was not readily in my sights. In fact, there was no one readily in my sights.

Oh this was rich. Planet save me, if I was late for that council meeting because Yuffie thought it would be fun to have the training room to herself, I was going to fire her ass so fast she wouldn't know what was coming. Then she could go back to her little tiny Island-state and be the freaking Princess she was acting like here. Well I was about to inform her that the WRO doesn't trip over themselves at her command every time she got the inclination...

I was striding down the rows of lockers as my thoughts raced, and found her, finally, sitting on a bench in front of an open locker.

"Kisaragi..." I had it in mind to inform her of the harassment policies she was breaking by being in the men's room, until my eyes and brain formed a connection and I truly understood what I saw.

Next to her on the bench was a pistol, not a standard WRO commissioned model. In her hands was a white towel, which she had half clutched to her chest, her face buried in it. Across from her, the open locker contained three unmastered materia and a schedule. It was Vincent's training schedule. They were Vincent's materia. It was Vincent's pistol. It was Vincent's towel.

"Gaia, Yuffie..." My eyes were wide as I observed her, and she rearranged the towel to hide more of her face.

"Leave me alone, Reeve."

I wanted to. I really wanted to turn around and high-tail it out of those locker rooms and have the maintenance staff put a 'out of service' sign on the door and let her have her space and his towel and her memories for as long as she needed.

"You can't stay here, Yuffie," my logical side said.

"Yes I can."

I sighed and looked at the ceiling, hoping maybe to find an answer written there. I saw poor fluorescent lighting and a strange residue, but nothing much else. I absentmindedly scratched my beard. "Take his things with you."

"I can't. I'm not supposed to be able to get into his locker."

I cocked an eyebrow as she pulled the towel away from her face and set it in her lap, staring at it dismally.

"He made me promise I wouldn't try to pick it." She made a slight face. "He never told me he kept materia in there."

I chuckled softly and extended a hand to her, hoping the lightened mood would provide an end to the standoff. She shook her head, however, raising her head and looking at her friend's locker. "Tifa's not answering her phone," she said finally, after a moment of silence.

I looked away. "Well I'm sure she knows what it is you want to ask, and when she has an answer that you want to hear, she'll give you a call."

She glared at me for all she was worth. "You're such a man, Reeve. Can't you tell I'm _worried?_ Besides, that's not why I was calling."

I ventured toward the bench and sat beside her. "It's not?"

"I really fucked up, Reeve."

My eyebrows drew together, as I had no idea what she was talking about. "What do you mean?" I questioned.

She opened her mouth but hesitated, eyes never leaving the gunman's locker filled with various personal belongings. "I just—I just did, okay? And now they're headed to her cave and they can't do that, they just _can't_."

"Why not? You said yourself that was the most likely place to find Vincent, and who better than you knows him?"

"That's just it, Reeve!" She cried, turning to me with helpless eyes. "_I_ know him better than anyone. I know his secrets, his past, his regrets, his anger; his fears." Her voice was trembling and I could see her eyes glass over with tears. She swallowed, reigning in her thoughts and looking away once again. "That's why they cannot go there, Reeve. Please, you have to do something. I've messed up so bad."

"That's silly, Yuffie. They need to find him!" _I_ needed them to find him, because _I_ needed him. I needed to know there would be a future for the program. I needed to know I would see Yuffie smile again. I needed to know that ShinRa, _my_ ShinRa, the force I had helped obtain evil was not going to be the death of every one of my friends. "He needs to come home."

"Just..."

"Hey, let's get you some lunch so you can calm down."

She shook her head again, and as flustered as I was getting, I had no intention of giving up. "There's no sense getting so worked up over this, Yuffie. He may need medical attention; it's dangerous to leave him out there."

She gulped, and my nerves were rattled by the way she teetered on the edge of tears. "I- I don't know... I don't know what to... I..."

I hadn't seen her so vulnerable in my entire time of knowing her. She looked at me and her icy grey eyes were swimming with tears, and I could feel my hope dying with hers. It was frightening, really, how much my hope hinged on the light that was currently smothered in her eyes. Before I knew it I had pulled her into my arms and I hugged her like a child might hug a doll: close and comforting, but gentle and kind. She didn't resist, but it took several seconds before I felt her ease against me, and her ease calmed me as well.

...Hence my position in the bathroom, with a headache quickly forming; a rhythmic 'thumping' sounding out into the corridor. Now, I realize there's a bit of a jump in events there, but really this is not the case. I stayed in the men's locker room, hugging Yuffie for nearly three hours. Three hours I was supposed to be in a council meeting deciding the fate of the highway between Edge and Junon: A piece of infrastructure that could boost the economy in both cities. The only reason I left was because of that _damn_ PHS in my pocket.

"Uhm... Reeve?"

It was the first word I had heard from her in nearly two hours. "Yes?"

"There's something vibrating in your pocket, and I hope to _God_ it's your phone."

I laughed shortly. "It's your lucky day," I replied, pulling away from her and shifting to answer it. She, however, saw the number before I could and snatched it out of my hand.

"Hiya, Pemille."

It was my secretary... what on earth did she want?

"Ohhh noooees, Reevey's in trooouuubbblleeeee."

"SHIT." I snatched the phone from the ninja and snapped it shut, my wide eyes staring at it. "What time is it?" I asked breathlessly.

"Dunno. You're the one with the phone."

She was right, so I checked it. "SHIT," I exclaimed again.

"What's wrong?"

"Shit, shit, shit."

"Geeze, Reeve, potty mouth."

I awkwardly realized how close we still were and I glanced away to the floor. "Uh, I've got to go." I awkwardly stood and straightened my jacket, leaving her there in the men's locker room, with every intention of having someone put up that out of service sign just so I could just get _out_. I had nowhere to go except back to my office, and I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk being caught at my thoughts; caught trying to figure out why the hell it hurt to see her cry like that.

Locked and barricaded bathrooms are just the place to hide when you're trying to forget that you had clung to a woman—_girl_—half your age as if your life depended on it, while real life and responsibility passed you by.

* * *

Tifa's instruction had been to simply make sure the kids got home from school alright—Denzel was old enough now to take care of himself and Marlene on his own. I was to tell them that there were things in the fridge to make sandwiches for a snack while they waited for Tifa and Cloud to come home for dinner.

However, my weakness to Denzel's persuading words and Marlene's puppy dog eyes was as vulnerable as ever. What was meant to be a fifteen minute visit turned into a four hour video-gaming, junk-food, horror film bonanza; where the three of us were hunkered-down on the sofa, cans of soda and game controllers clutched in our hands.

"After this game, I say we watch _Death in Gongaga,_" Denzel said, narrowing his eyes as his virtual car ran mine off the road.

"You little jerk," I muttered, trying to steer back. "Does Tifa usually let you guys watch scary movies?" I was concentrating on not losing too badly to a twelve year old; and so missed the short glances that the adopted brother and sister exchanged behind my back.

"All the time," Marlene replied casually. "In fact, on Thursday nights they let us stay up really late, so we can watch lots of movies."

"Don't you guys have school tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but that's okay, we always get up on time," Denzel assured me.

It seemed reasonable, even if a little fishy. I supposed it didn't matter, Tifa and Cloud would be home soon to take the reins, and the same if not worse would have occurred if I hadn't been there to hang out with them. Although the Wutainese food currently in-transit to the house probably wouldn't have been paid for… with real currency, anyway.

We were half an hour into the movie when the bar phone rang, and Denzel hopped over the back of the couch to retrieve it. "Hello?"

I pressed pause, much to Marlene's dismay, and leaned backward to listen in.

"Oh, hi Tifa. Yeah, everything is fine here. Reeve stayed to hang out with us." His eyes widened slightly. "No, no that's alright, don't call her back. She can come over too!"

I arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's alright. Still haven't found him yet, eh?" There was a short pause in their conversation where I was sure neither of them spoke. "Don't worry, Tifa," I heard him say, and I couldn't help but be very proud of the comforting tone of his voice. He was going to grow up to be a good man. I felt the sofa shift beside me, and suddenly Marlene was running into the kitchen, demanding that he let her speak to her guardian.

"Tifa?" She smiled when the barkeep responded affectionately. "Yes everything is ok. I closed up the bar early. It was a slow night anyway. When are you coming home? Aww, man…"

I shot Denzel a questioning look as he came to rejoin me.

"Tifa said Cid wants to keep looking around Nibleheim," he explained. "They're going to stay the night."

"Did she mention the Cave?"

He made a face. "What cave?"

My eyes darted to Marlene in the kitchen, but before I could ask her if I might speak to Tifa, she had already hung up. "Yayyy, aunt Yuffie's the _best_ at video games."

"Aunt Yuffie?" I repeated.

"Tifa called her to come watch us when she realized she wasn't going to make it home tonight."

"Ah," I said, my eyes returning back to the television screen as a queasy feeling settled in my stomach. I wondered if it was due to the Wutainese food, or the Wutainese Princess. "Lovely."

* * *

**Author's Note:**_ Now, hopefully we can all sort of see a bit of a direction beginning to develop. What I need now is to know whether or not it's working. This is where yall come in and do what you do best, and what you've been doing so brilliantly thus far. I know Yuffie seems a bit off, but I've come to an understanding tbhat my gut writes her 'off' because she is. She very very very much is. We'll see more about why in the future. _

_Til' next time: Lynn_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: _Yay a new chapter. I posed a question over at Viva la Reefie (which, to any of you potentially teetering on maybe, still don't want to betray Yuffentine die-hards out there who are guiltily enjoying this story, is a really great community full of really great people and has a really great new layout with a really pretty banner) about whether these chapters are too short. I like to keep them about this sixe because it seems more reasonable for reading purposes as well as more frequent updates. But, of course, this is a question for you, so tellme what you think._

_Anyway, on to the good stuff!_

* * *

For the next half hour my attention was entirely on trying to hear the bar door open over the sounds of the horror film playing before me. My eyes watched the figures on the screen, but my mind was focussed on the fact that Yuffie would be here any moment. Would it be awkward? A piece of me said it wouldn't—she was still hurting, and would maybe be grateful for the time I set aside for her. Maybe she would come in here and curl up next to me and fall asleep half way through the next movie and I would let her drool on my shirt.

You're laughing at me: It's okay, I would be too. The larger portion of my mind knew it was going to be awkward. Why? Because even if Yuffie was grateful and traipsed in here on her best behaviour; _I_ would have _made_ it awkward. In fact, I intended to make it awkward. There was absolutely no reason for me to feel so _refreshed_ after those three hours in the locker room with Yuffie.

If I had learned nothing else from my little stay in the bathroom, it was that I had hoped my desire to comfort her had come from a purely unselfish place; that I was simply being a supportive friend to another friend in a time of her greatest need. But if there was one thing I was never good at, it was lying to myself. I knew perfectly well of all of the suggestive thoughts racing through my mind.

Now, I'm not Reno. I wasn't thinking about taking advantage of her (although the fact that I'm bringing up this thought should cue you slightly otherwise) but I found myself questioning my purely platonic relationship with the ninja. It's just that she looked so sad, so beautiful. I wanted to say I could picture myself _with_ her. To have the right to kiss away her tears, to hold her close to me the way I did whenever I should chose.

Of course, these were the reasons I was forced to make things awkward, to save myself from hoping for something that could never possibly occur. You see, Cid and the gang were about to stumble upon Vincent, which meant he would be coming home soon, alleviating the pain from the young ninja I found myself slightly enamoured with.

Besides... she's _nineteen_. I'm pretty sure a nineteen year old caught with a guy my age is illegal; and if it's not, it should be. It's not like I had time for a relationship anyway...

"Aunt Yuffie!"

I was torn from my train of thought by the kids' screech, and the fact that the DVD was quickly put on pause as they dashed to the door, greeting the ninja with excitement.

"Yo, kiddos," she returns, ruffling their hair. "Let's get this party started, shall we?"

I shifted on the couch to look at her, and she stopped dead when she saw me. "What're you doing here?"

"Babysitting."

"Oh."

"Yeah." I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. I'm old and gross and she's young and immature and it's awkward, awkward, awkward.

"Sweet!"

My eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Hey Denny, go get me a cola, would'ya?"

I watched her as she circled the couch and plopped down next to me, picking the remote out of my lap with fingers so deft there was no wondering why she was once suited for materia theft.

"I see you finally made it out of the locker room," I muttered stiffly, trying to sound unsympathetic.

She didn't answer me. "What are we watching? Oh my gawd, Death in Gongaga? I love this movie!"

I exhaled sharply when she curled up against me, and remained rigid until she looked up at me with big round innocent eyes.

"It's _really scary_, Reeve. You're gonna have to hold me."

That _bitch_. "Get off," I hissed, half removing her myself as I stood from the couch. I could hear her tittering laughter as I resituated myself in an arm chair.

I stared directly at the television, for I knew even the sight of her smug face would drive me into the very depths of insane loathing. It was good to see that at least she was feeling a little more like the brat we all knew and... loved? Well, that said, at least she had some kind of a smile on her face, even though I knew it was really only a mask used for hiding the fear. Oh, if only Vincent knew what he was doing to her. If he were here to experience this horror-- this calamity, maybe he would see the error in his ways. No one really notices the ninja's ever-present smile until it was whisked away from us in one fell swoop.

The kids were back on the couch, each sitting on either side of their 'aunt'. "Press play, Aunt Yuffie," Denzel said, passing her her requested soda.

"Thanks Denny," she said, pressing the button on the remote and proceeding to crack open her drink.

I submersed myself in the movie, although more than once I tried to excuse myself and go home. I knew Yuffie to be more than capable of taking care of the two children, and I had some paper work that needed to be finished before I took a long shower to cool my thoughts and then crawl into bed only to not sleep because of those same thoughts running circles in my head.

"But Reeve!" It was Marlene's big brown eyes and pouted lower lip that got me every time. There was just something so unspeakably evil about the way she did it that could hypnotize a grown man and make him prone to doing whatever in the world she wanted. And so I watched as the villain destroyed homes and families, and with a clenched jaw watched him rip out the throat of the main hero, whose best friend watched from a short distance, placed safely among the bushes by the hero himself so she would not come to harm. "It's my fault," he said. "If it means my life for yours..."

Yuffie pretended to be sleeping when the movie was over, but I could tell by the struggled way she drew breath that she was trying to keep back tears as she half laid on Denzel who had fallen asleep quite some time ago. Of course, I didn't say anything. We know what happened the last time I tried to comfort her, and apparently she didn't appreciate the help. That was fine; once I got Marlene and Denzel to bed I had every intention of situating her awkwardly on the couch where she could stay until either the morning's light or the unbearable pain woke her up.

Carefully I picked Marlene up and took her upstairs, careful to miss the creaky steps. Her bedroom was the closest, and it always made me smile how tidy she kept it. Her toys were in the far corner; all arranged in a neat row, and her bed was made with a stuffed chocobo placed on top of the pillow. I arranged her in bed as carefully as I could, and tugged her socks off. She stirred slightly, but only rolled over to hug her pillow and mumble something incoherently. I snickered and tucked her in, giving her head a little pat before leaving her to get the next one; flicking the light off as I went.

To my dismay I came downstairs to find Denzel had awoken and was busy poking Yuffie, who was now actually passed out on top of him, having fallen asleep sometime during her attempt to fool me. "Hey Reeve, you grab her arms and I'll grab her feet and we can drag her upstairs." As tempting as such an irresponsible mode of transporting the sleeping princess was, I smirked and shook my head. "Off to bed, young sir. Leave the princess to me."

I made sure he was in bed with all he needed before I went back downstairs, standing in the doorway of the living room and examining the young ninja sleeping in a twisted position on the couch. I wanted very badly (perhaps too badly) to leave her there, but the soft spot in my heart was seemingly unaffected by her annoyingness, rudeness, and outright coldness toward me ever since Vincent had disappeared. Ever since Vincent had, without a word, left. Ever since he left _her_. She had a right to be so cold, I figured, as I carefully scooped her up off the sofa.

She seemed weightless in my arms as I headed toward the stairs, my intention to put her into her bed just as I had done with each of the children. I smiled at the thought of how childlike Yuffie truly was: She was honest and giving, but had a streak of evil in her just like Marlene's pout. She dealt with things with simply clarity as well; she was either happy or sad, and she always knew which was which, even when the rest of us were unsure. I was reminded then how sad she really was, when her voice, soft as a breeze croaked out a strangled; "Vincent?"

"It's Reeve, Yuffie." She must have still been sleeping, lost in a dream, for she didn't acknowledge me, other than to grip onto the front of my shirt like a life-line.

"Vincent?"

I paused on the top step and waited, looking down at her as her features morphed in agony. My arms tightened instinctively and my brow furrowed. "Are you alright Yuffie?" Of course, my voice was soft, as I did not want to wake her, but it was filled with what I found to be (upon further examination) worry.

Her fist's grip on my shirt loosened considerably and her face relaxed, a sign, I assumed, that the worst of it was over. I made the rest of the trip to her room rather quickly, removing her boots and arm guards from her before tucking her under the blankets. She, like Marlene had done, curled up with her pillow upon contact, hugging it close to herself like a doll, whispering the name of a man against it.

I don't know how long I watched her, but it wasn't until long after her soft whispers and occasional cries had subsided that I found my feet were able to move.

So like a child, that woman.

* * *

I went home to perform my routine; three files of paper work lay waiting for me on my desk top, and I filtered through them mindlessly, signing this and that; vetoing the occasional proposal and tagging others for further discussion. There were several queries about the training program which I purposefully ignored, as they all stated what-if's surrounding my commander's potential demise. I did not throw them out, but they stared at me, unopened at the corner of my desk with a yellow post-it note attached that read "Valentine".

They served not as a reminder, but rather a taunting presence. There was no possible way I could forget the fact that Vincent was gone, and the implications this had for the program, but every night as I finished up my paper work I would glance at them and my mind would start rolling.

Torturous, I know, but somewhere inside of me I believed that if I analysed the situation enough ways, I might be able to discover some kind of alternative or solution that would make this whole thing better than it had been to begin with. That is of course what I _wanted_ to believe, which does not necessarily mean that I did. Like I mentioned before, if there was one thing I was bad at, it was lying to myself. _Maybe_ I could find a man with the correct amount of training and experience to harden an army of fresh meat into something capable of defending a republic, and maybe they would already have the understanding and knowledge of a past that only a select few truly witnessed, but this didn't solve everything. Even if I could find a replacement commander, I could never find a replacement Vincent.

Maybe it was watching the tears slowly soil Yuffie's pillow case earlier that night that pulled my thoughts beyond the WRO and into the personal, but as I stared into the down-falling droplets of water, beating down on me from the showerhead, I discovered that that was where my rambling notions seemed to wind up time and time again.

I shook my head, trying to toss my wet and matted hair out of my eyes. I succeeded only to have it fall back in place, and I sighed, lifting a hand to smooth it back. By the feeling of pressure constantly residing in my chest these days, I wouldn't have been surprised if half of it was grey, or suddenly fell out right there in my hand.

I snorted to myself. What I needed was to get laid. Find some broad as down on herself as I was and come together for an evening on pity sex that would amount to an awkward conversation over coffee the next morning and that was that.

I knew better than to think a one-night stand was going to fix anything other than to get my rocks off and meet my quota for the month... okay _year_. This wasn't _about_ sex. It was about... about... well I wasn't sure what it was about. In my mind however, I kept hearing _her_ voice saying _his_ name, and kept seeing the little frown on her face, kept smelling the sweetness of her hair and the feel of her hand clutching my shirt. It was about Yuffie, I decided. It was about Yuffie and how I wanted to see her smile again. I reached for the tap and altered the temperature. It was about Yuffie and how she drove me insane. My hand tweaked the handle again. It was about Yuffie and how Vincent had left without so much as an explanation to a woman just out of girlhood who couldn't possibly understand the so called sacrifice that I was sure _he _didn't even entirely understand himself. It was about Yuffie and her bright eyes, and silky hair, and tall lean legs, and little waist, and...

If I had been that kind of guy maybe I would have found a bar yet that night and buried myself and those thoughts in the arms of a whore; or maybe I would have gotten off in the shower and gone to bed feeling slightly relieved. As it was I twisted the tap entirely to the right and stood in the cold for a good five minutes before all the thoughts of sex or something like it were gone from my head. (No pun intended).

I only wanted what I couldn't have, I decided, watching dismally as the cold shower worked its black magic. My forehead hit the shower wall and I sighed.

What I wanted was for her to be happy. What I wanted was for her to smile: that girl-woman who was sad but acted happy or angry or bratty or anything other than what she really was.

I snorted softly. Just like me, who was pretending not to be horny. Ah, two of a kind, we were, two of a... I lifted my head and squinted at the shower faucet.

Hm... idea.

* * *

**Author's Note:**_ Well there's another. It's personally one of my favorites. Like.. I like it a lot. haha. Do you feel the same? And don't forget about the question I posed earlier. I'm writing this for myself and my own enjoyment, but it's entertainment for you guys too- that's what writing is all about. So, as ever, I want to hear back from you._

~  
_Til' Next time;_

_Lynn  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **_Heya guys! I've had some time to procrastinate doing my art project, so I pounded out a new chapter for you in the mean time. Hope you like it :3_

* * *

Needless to say the evil conniving bastard in me kept me up all night, pacing around my kitchen, stroking my beard with a thoughtful pout. I don't know why, but I had seen evil master-minds on movies act similarly, so I thought I'd give it a go. It indeed proved to make me feel very much like a villain, and so I continued in the same fashion, occasionally dashing over to the counter to jot down an idea or two on a quickly developing map of my mind, where all of my brainstorming converged into one giant paper of malice.

Of course, all of these horrible things I planned on doing to Yuffie were out of the goodness and well-meaning of my heart, which everyone knows is soft and squishy and may resemble a care-bear (I haven't exactly been inclined to look). But that's beyond the point. I came to the realization last night that I was going about this comforting thing in a completely absurd way.

Yuffie needed to know that someone cared about her. I happened to care for her, and wanted to express that, but the way a normal adult would express such things were entirely lost or confused when it came to Yuffie. She was nineteen years old and had come straight from childhood, skipping adolescence, and jumping head first into becoming a woman with thoughts and feelings she couldn't possibly be expected understand.

It explained a lot of things, which made my head and heart hurt to think about. Yet there was a light at the end of this tunnel. A light called Cait, and the devilish mind of yours truly. You see, I had every intention of playing the child, while introducing her to the feelings of an adult. Maybe this way she could begin to realize and understand her grief, or her feelings toward Vincent's situation. As her friend I felt entirely obligated to do so, and as the brunt of her bratty pranks and general obnoxiousness, I believe I had somewhat of a right.

* * *

I got to work to find her, unexpectedly in my office. "Who let you in here?" I questioned, dropping my briefcase just inside the door and quickly shedding my jacket. The mid- June morning was a toasty one, and if it hadn't been for the sake of appearances, I wouldn't have bothered to bring a jacket at all. Yuffie, of course, in her resistance to life itself was decked out in a very work inappropriate outfit that she deemed acceptable only on the grounds that "she said so". I had tried arguing with her on this several times, but more than once I was simply ignored or Vincent would give me a small withering look that simply meant "give up, good man; you _can't_ win".

The thought of him made me bristle, and I had to wonder when my feelings about his disappearance had changed from a strong desire to get him home to contempt. I glanced at Yuffie, who was spinning in my desk chair. "Did you get the kids off to school all right?"

"Yep," she replied unimportantly.

"They got breakfast?"

"Yep." She spun out of my sight for a moment again.

"Did... you sleep okay last night?"

The spinning stopped and she stood up. "Yep." Her arms folded over her chest and she moved to the window, using a finger to pull down part of the blinds.

I kept any further comments to myself, because I wasn't one hundred percent keen on her learning I had watched her toss and turn half the night, calling out for a gunslinger who may or may not be alive, and may or may not come out of hiding even if he was living.

"Tseng is coming by for a short meeting at 10:30, so you should busy yourself with doing something that doesn't involve being in my office."

She let go of the blinds and they all snapped back into place. "Still grumpy, eh?"

"Grumpy?"

"Yeah, you were all mopey-dopey last night. What's up with that?"

I sighed impatiently, wondering how on earth she could be so ignorant as to think she had nothing to do with it. "I'm just stressed, is all."

She clucked her tongue off the roof of her mouth and shook her head. "Gawd, Reevey, you need to let loose every once in a while. Kick up your heels! Get yourself laid."

I must have stiffened visibly, because she laughed at me.

"You know, I think Tseng's been questioning his sexuality..."

"Yuffie..." I groaned, holding up a hand to silence her. Even with my new understanding of the reason she played these childish games, I was not in the mood to have my manhood thrown into question yet again.

"You see, this is what I mean, you can't even take a joke."

I sighed. "Yes, yes, we all know I have a stick up my ass, but in order to run this place you have to get used to the burning sensation."

She chuckled, and I swallowed and looked away, busying myself with rearranging a stack of papers that had no business being rearranged, hoping that if I looked verifiably employed then she would have the good sense to leave me alone. My sudden desire for her to vaporize was firstly the headache quickly donning on me, and secondly the low voice grumbling at me to grab her and show her just how _little_ I questioned _my_ sexuality.

I glanced up and glared as she plopped herself down on my desk, crossing her legs in an over exaggerated action.

"I'm bored."

"You just got here," I remarked, although I was sure even the sight of the office building made her feel bored. "Why don't you go finish some of your reports? You owe me expense summaries from way back in February."

"Whatever, Lendal will do them for me."

"Lendal?" I repeated, giving up on shuffling my papers and leaning on the desk, squinting at her. "You mean Drys from payroll?"

"That'd be the one," she remarked casually. "He likes doing that kind of stuff, _and_ he likes me, so I don't see that there should be a problem."

I gulped uneasily, and allowed the jealousy, loathing, and general discomfort to bubble up and close in around my quickly beating heart like rising water. "_Likes_ you?" I echoed.

"Yeah. You know... wants to hit that shit." She laughed like it was nothing, and I hoped she wasn't noticing how my hands clenched the edge of the desk. "Anyway," she continued, sliding to the ground, disregarding the papers she knocked off in the process (yes my desk is messy, so bite me). "I'm gonna boogie. I want to call Tifa again before I hit the training room."

"Again?"

"Yeah, when I called her this morning she didn't pick up. She was probably humping Cloud or something."

I bristled at her crudeness. "And you call yourself a Princess," I muttered, shaking my head.

She apparently didn't hear me, because when she turned back in the doorway, there was a smile on her face. "Oh, and by the way, I meant it about getting laid, Reeve."

I was about to comment about how she shouldn't concern herself with such things when I realized she was suggestively glancing from me to my laptop that was perched open on a filing cabinet, facing away from me.

"Yuffie..." I said, slowly approaching it, "what did you..."

"Bye Reevey, see you later!" The door slammed behind her just as I turned the laptop around, only to find a file full of newly downloaded porn.

"Yuffie!"

My eyes got considerably wider, however, when I discovered the porn had been saved in the "shared network files", and were now accessible on every computer in the building. I took solace, however, in the fact that I stopped by the locker rooms before I had come to my office.

* * *

Once I had all of the questionable material deleted and had sent out a memo which explained in detail the fact that administration had full access to histories of all computer activity, I met with Tseng to discuss the potential need of his assistance.

He seemed to be willing; at least, that was the impression he gave. I wondered vaguely what Rufus could possibly have his Turks doing other than body guard work, and couldn't blame the man for looking for something a little out of routine for a while.

"Well Tseng, I believe that's everything, unless you have anything you wanted to bring up?"

"No sir, you covered it all quite well."

I smiled, satisfied. If Tseng could be half the man that Vincent was, we would have a very solid program developing. I made a face as a mentally checked myself; since when did I start assuming Vincent was dead? "Give my regards to your colleagues," I said, standing from my desk.

Tseng followed suit on the opposite side, and reached toward me, where I met him with a curt handshake. "I'm sure they will be glad to hear of an assignment other than fanning Rufus during his vacations to Costa del Sol."

I chuckled. "He is still insistent on going, hm? Even after the degree of last year's sun burn?"

"I'm afraid is either very stubborn, or does not learn from his mistakes."

At that moment the door burst open and a raggedly breathing ninja's eyes met mine from across the room. She looked positively ragged. "Good god, Yuffie. Did you run here?"

She nodded once, very slowly, very threateningly.

I glanced at Tseng. "Yuffie, you remember Tseng."

"Go home, Turkey. Reevey dear and I have a little score to settle."

The Turk swallowed uneasily and glanced at me. "Sir?"

"Go ahead, Tseng. I can handle this." I very casually sat back down in my chair and smirked. "I'll see you first thing next week, then, yes?"

He nodded quickly, and obviously not wanting to get involved in what could potentially result in death, slipped by Yuffie, out of my office.

"Now, Yuffie; what was it you wanted?"

"Your balls on a plate," she hissed through gritted teeth.

My grin widened. "And why is that?"

"You know perfectly well, you jerk. Give me back my materia!"

I folded my arms across my chest rather smugly. Oh, being commissioner had its perks. Don't fear, all of Yuffie's materia was safe, but it certainly wasn't in her locker where she left it. I wasn't going to sell it... it wasn't my intention to traumatize her more than she already was, but her reaction was better than I had hoped for. "Your materia? What makes you think _I _have it?"

"Oh give it up, Reeve."

I laughed shortly again, and watched as a hint of a mirroring smile crossed her face for a fleeting moment.

I winked, egging her on.

"You're such a child. Fork 'em up."

"I don't know what you mean," I replied, no longer bothering to hide my playfulness.

"Frig, you bastard! Cait did this didn't he?"

"Sometimes, Yuffie, that cat has a mind of its own."

"He's a robot, Reeve. You programmed it to be an asshole."

I smiled again.

"Oh, I'll find my materia," she promised leaning over my desk; two hands braced on the edge.

I swallowed in nervous excitement.

"And then you just _watch out_."

I extended a hand toward her. "Game on."

She shoved her own into it roughly and shook it. I fizzle of delight rippled through me at the contact; adrenaline pulsing through my veins.

_Shit_, I really needed to hide my car keys.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Well, another day, another chapter. Let me know what you think. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**_ Well, you can all thank Fanfiction-net for the delay in update_, _but here you are; and hopefully it is worth the wait._

* * *

I could almost feel the electricity in the air for the rest of the day. Every time Yuffie so much as glanced in the direction of my office, my nerves were set off in a dizzying barrage of excitement and, truth be told, fear. Your average man did not just go running into battle against Yuffie Kisaragi, especially when the name of the game was to play dirty and the dirtier you played, the more honour you gained.

She was good, I would give her that. In simply the course of the morning, I had put salt in my coffee, been locked in the men's bathroom (this time not by choice) and came back from a meeting to find all of my filing cabinets filled with blank pieces of paper.

As difficult as this game was for getting any real work done, I had to admit it was worth it. Every time I saw her she had a grin of utter triumph on her face, and the only trouble she was getting into was anticipated, and so made her regular pranks look like nothing at all. More importantly was the fact that she didn't have that pained look of sadness, longing and worry on her face. Her expression now was one of pure mischief, but to me it was a one hundred and ten percent improvement from the sallow look of grief that had once masked her innocence.

I was busy relocating all of my actual paperwork when, out of breath, Yuffie burst through my door. "Reeve!"

"I'm sorry, Yuffie," I said without looking up, "But everything is fair game."

"Gum? In my HAIR!? What kind of monster are you?"

"Where's my paperwork?" I shot back, eye snapping to her face.

"Where's my materia?" She asked vehemently, a glint in her eye.

"Salt in the sugar container?" I questioned.

"Glue on my chair?" The small grin on her face was growing wider, and I couldn't help but smirk back.

"Admit it, that one was funny."

"_So_ third grade, Reevey." There was even laughter in her voice.

"And locking the bathroom door isn't?"

She laughed outright, slipping inside the door and closing it behind her. When she turned back around, I pretended like I hadn't seen the wad of gum matted into a lock of her hair, although I may have over-played my innocence, because she gave me a withering look in response to my smile.

She was quiet for a moment, eyes shifting to the floor. The way she had her head slightly bowed made her bangs fall in front of her face, and I couldn't see her eyes for her long sweeping dark lashes. It stirred something within me, and the only description I could possibly offer was _beautiful_. Not beautiful, as in pretty, like she always had been; but beautiful in a new, slightly terrifying way.

"Hey Reevey?"

I cleared my throat and blinked, trying to re-envision her as the sixteen-year old who had somehow managed to steal materia from my brilliantly programmed Cait Sith. "Yeah?"

She looked up again, and the discrete little way she tossed her hair out from in front of her face made me clench my jaw. "I just wanted to know what this is all about."

I swallowed awkwardly. What was all about? I mean, I know she called me lonely and frequently told me to go get shagged, but was she aware of who was foremost in my thoughts when such desires arose? I gripped the bookshelf behind me. "Uhh..."

"The pranks," she clarified.

I recovered quickly, my spine straightening as I rose to my full height. It was then I vaguely acknowledged that fact that I had been cowering from her like some kind of dog being punished for something he knew he was guilty of doing.

"Revenge," was my swift reply.

"Revenge," she repeated; a hint of questioning on her voice.

"Simply put; yes."

She gave me a look that was entirely unbelieving, and I arched my eyebrows in response, begging her to explain to me why I had no right to want revenge, when I so obviously did.

"I... guess I can handle that." She straightened considerable and folded her arms across her chest, throwing her shoulders back indignantly. "Just so long as you're not being a douche again."

"Douche?" I repeated. What a thing to call someone. "When was I being a... one of those..?"

"Oh Yuffie you must be so sad, so I'm going to let you get away with all of this bullshit, just because you are a pathetic little girl," she mocked.

I blinked at her. "That's called sympathy; but next time you're looking for it, I shall remember this conversation and completely skip that part and get straight to the firing you."

"The only reason I have this job is because _you_ wanted a spy."

"Really? Because you're not that good of one, so that must not have been it," I drawled, only half hoping she knew I was teasing her.

She bristled and stepped toward me, eyebrows drawn together. "Fine then, fire me! It's not like I need this job, I'm a fricking princess, for frick's sake."

"You could have fooled me," I returned.

"Oh don't act like you're not jealous of the fact that I live life the way I want to and not the way some old ass-hole decided I should."

"You think that's how I live my life, is it?"

"Yeah, man! Why else would you be so _boring_? I know there's a funny exciting guy lost somewhere inside that thick skull of yours."

"Maybe you're wrong," I argued.

She closed more of the distance between us and poked me hard in the chest. "You just challenged me to a game of _pranks_, Reeve Tuesti. Only a man with the heart of an eleven year old would do something like that."

I cracked a wry grin.

"I wish Vinnie would lighten up like you can, Reeve. Every once in a while you down-right amaze me with some stupid joke or mentally retarded prank... and that fucking _cat_." She looked up at me with half of a smile. "So, I wanted to know why you do it."

"I already told you; revenge."

"That's all?"

To make her laugh, make her smile, make her forget the world, forget herself, forget about _him_. "Pretty much, yep."

"Well, I guess there's still hope then," she remarked, shifting her weight to one side and placing a hand on her hip. "Just don't forget how to be a dorkus, okay? I don't need two mopey ass-holes around here."

And suddenly I understood what this was all about; why she cared that I joked and smiled and teased her.

"He's a different kind of guy, Yuffie," I offered helplessly as she moved back toward the door.

She tossed me another look over her shoulder and a smile almost surfaced on her lips. "Yeah—a sad one."

* * *

I had a file sent to her office describing a mission she was to complete that afternoon, by acquiring important information at the Woman's Institute weekly meeting (she would find nothing); made sure there was hair in her grilled cheese sandwich; and had Cait tie sixteen different knots in her shoe laces while she sat at her desk, so that when she stood up and tried to move, she would fall over.

She retaliated, of course, with deft skill. I came back from a meeting to find several models of Cait Sith dressed in doll clothing; mostly pink, with his crown replaced by tufts of hair and ribbon.

It was when I caught her in the act of doodling on my white-board images highly inappropriate for a work setting that things really got interesting. Her eyes got wide as she slowly replaced the cap on her dry-erase marker, taking three slow steps backward before bolting off through the side-door into my secretary's adjoining office.

It was after I heard he sing a cheerful "Hey, Pamille!" that I overcame my shock and gave chase, darting around the desk and taking off in a sprint behind her.

"Too far, Kisaragi!" I shouted as we took off down a mostly empty hallway. It's meagre population stopped whatever they were doing to stare at us as we flew past, and for a fleeting moment I wondered what magnitude of damage this was doing my to my credibility and respectability, but the thoughts fled when Yuffie tossed a grin over her shoulder; a teasing, enticing grin.

"What do you mean, Reevey?" she shouted. "I always thought you and Cid would make a _beautiful_ couple."

"_Yuffie!"_

She shrieked when she rounded the corner and found herself trapped at a dead-end, and I half tackled, half shoved her against the offending wall, my head close to hers as my arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Our breathing came heavily, but among the pants she found air to say "At least I drew you _top_."

A breathy laugh escaped me. "I will remember to thank you for that once I've convinced you I'm not gay."

"And how to you plan on doing that?"

I could think of a few abstract ideas, most of which were fuelled by the sick state of my mind as I was pressed against her, feeling her wriggle against me in a half-hearted attempt to escape. Surely she had no idea what she was doing; and I was certain that if I enlightened her to my reaction, she would no longer find this game very fun. "A firm lecture," I answered, although the irrational side of me protested loudly.

"That's it?" He voice was not her own, but I couldn't tell what was changing it: Fear? Excitement? The mere fact that she was still out of breath? "I don't know if that's going to be enough, Reevey. I think I need _proof_."

My rational side was suddenly pushed entirely to the side, and I found I was every inch pressed against her, my lips brushing the shell of her ear when I asked; "what _kind_ of proof?"

She managed to turn around in my arms, and I felt my heart rate double when she looked up at me with eyes I could easily find myself lost in. If I had been paying attention to any of the 'good man' left in my soul, I would have acknowledged the innocence and youth in those eyes, but since my decency was in a far off land surrounded by a box that I refused to open, all I saw was an exotic, entrancing, beauty.

"The only kind of proof, silly."

I swallowed hard as her hand reached up and brushed my jaw, and I watched, intrigued as a strange look crossed her face. She looked surprised, and fascinated, and pleased as her fingers took in the texture of my facial hair. Ruining the moment, however, I was distantly aware of my rationality pounding on the inside of the box I had put it in, demanding that I recognize who this was, and realise exactly what it was I was doing.

Oh, but maybe this wasn't so insane after all. I remembered her smiles from earlier that day, and the same hopeful flutter had floated through me.

When her fingers moved onward, curling into my hair at the base of my neck to pull my head closer to hers, it was safe to say that no matter the amount of screaming my brain was doing, I was quite happy to ignore it.

As I closed my eyes I could feel her breath on my face, and my stomach clenched in anticipation. One of the arms around her waist lifted to brace against the wall, in fear I would fall over from the overwhelming sweetness of it all. Yet when our lips should have met, there was something else: A whisper. I opened my eyes and saw an evil little smirk on her face.

"_Just kidding_."

I had challenged the _queen_ to a battle at her own game, and I wondered why I was so surprised when I found myself trampled and defeated beneath her feet.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _There ya go! Don't forget that your reveiws are really important: I'm still trying to shape where this story is going, and your responses have a lot to do with the content. Suggestions are very much appreciated!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **_Gah, sorry about the wait, everyone! School sucks so bad right now. The next one is going to be a bit of a wait too, but it'll be worth it. _:D

* * *

And they say only women need comfort food. Hah. I'm the anti-thesis to that theory, and I'm certainly not afraid to admit it (despite Yuffie's questions about my sexuality).

I made my stops on the way home (I took off early with the excuse of a migraine, and since Pemille is perpetually concerned for my health she gladly promised to take care of things while I was gone), stopping at the grocer to pick up fresh asparagus, some lean pork cuts, and all of the things I would need to make alfredo sauce from scratch. I don't care what you say; it just doesn't taste the same out of a jar.

So with these things in hand I officially sulked my way back to my apartment, looking dangerously ragged for a man of my position.

If I had bothered to explain my situation to any of the men eyeing me like I was some washed up piece of drift-wood, I can assure you they would sympathise. After all, it's not every day that you have a potentially outrageously sexy kiss dangled in front of your face only to discover it was part of some game that _you_ had initiated no less.

Cooking at least provided me with some time to think. As I diced garlic and whisked the white-sauce, I was mulling over the domino like effect the events since Omega were having on me; the frustration, the confusion, the tension. I knew those three things were caused by one another, only I had no idea what order they were meant to be placed it. Was the tension because of my confusion that was caused by my frustration? How many possible combinations could there be? Was I even listing all of the parts?

Of course I wasn't, and I knew it quite clearly, even though I danced around admitting it to myself on more than one occasion. My little situation in the hallway with a certain ninja really cinched it though, and it became painfully apparent that Yuffie herself was the catalyst for all of these things that were slowly driving me over the edge of insanity.

When the _fuck_ had that happened? Annoyed, I abruptly let go of the whisk, watching with a dented brow as is swirled around the edge of the pot once before settling, the sauce bubbling happily around it.

Was it really horrible-- _that_ horrible, anyway? I picked up the whisk again, mindlessly stirring the simmering substance. Well she was young, that was for sure. Much too young to be caught up with an old man like me, but I had to stop looking at this from everyone else's perspective. Was it really _that_ horrible if I had a healthy little infatuation with Wutai's white rose?

It was a mere matter of minutes before I had constructed a plate fit for any high-end restaurant, and after cleaning up after myself briefly in the kitchen, I retired to the dining room and sat down, only to find my appetite was nonexistent, even though the aroma was enticing and I knew I hadn't eaten hardly anything that day at all. I couldn't seem to stop my brain from working over-drive.

Of course it wasn't _that bad_. It was a healthy infatuation, after all. It's not like I was wishing she were there with me at that very moment or anything. She'd probably be stealing my materia and all of the shiny things in my house while I thought she was using the restroom. This strange circumstance we were trapped in what quite enough: I had someone to flirt with on a regular basis, and I got to spend quite a bit of time with her. I liked spending time with her, and I liked the way her smile could brighten to mood of an entire room. She was a good colleague, a good friend, and an even better distraction. However, I knew quite well that these types of things have a tendency to fester and grow, and then it wouldn't be just a little infatuation sooner or later. This is what I feared the most. Already I could feel the implications of something more stirring in my heart; the horrible twitching feeling in my chest every time she smiled in my direction, and the tightness in my throat every time my mind settled on Vincent, his disappearance, and his potential return.

I sighed and looked down at my meal, stabbing a piece of the pork with my fork. What was worse was the look on her face every time his name was mentioned.

She deserved better than to be his second rate side-kick. This was Yuffie Kisaragi! Why the hell would she ever settle for being the shadow, especially when she had the potential to outshine the entire world? Maybe I was setting her up for more than she was worth; maybe I was the only human alive who didn't see her as an immature brat, and saw her as a beautiful, terrible, menace, who was talented, clever, and smart. No, surely it was obvious.

What might not have been so obvious were my more sultry observations, such as the gentle curve of her thighs, her flat stomach, toned arms, and finally filling out breasts that were getting a lot more show time thanks to the change in outfit she had recently instituted. (The real reason I let my employees get away without wearing a WRO uniform? Vincent got away with it because he had a gun, and guns kill. Yuffie got away with it because her boss is an old pervert and had a thing for her short-shorts.)

It was unfair, this crush (for lack of a better term). It caught me full on, all at once, and Yuffie had no idea of my feelings, let alone any inclination of similar emotions. Hell, she could be at home right now thinking of all the ways I compare to an uncle, or worse, her father, rather than in the way that I was thinking of her: busily likening her to a goddess of erotica. The images washed over me much faster than I could control, and I found I had clenched my eyes tight against them. It was no use; behind the blackness of my eyelids they were even more vivid, and I could quite distinctly tell in that instant that a cold shower was in requirement.

Damn that woman and her legs.

I rose from the table, ungracefully and roughly shoving my chair backward. It was only because of that encounter in the hallway that she was so engrained in my thoughts, I readily suggested; my fingers tugging at my hair as my feet took me out of the dining room and down the hallway to the master bath.

These usually steady engineer's fingers shook as I reached for the brass door handle, and I flung it open, facing myself in the mirror. My brow was knit and a scowl replaced my usually pleasant expression, aging my entire appearance at least ten years. I raked a hand through my hair once again, and I thought with a hint of bitterness that all too soon it was all going to be pulled out from his habit of mine.

As I clutched the marble counter, trying my best to find some semblance of understanding and sense in this situation; I sighed loudly, shoving away from the sink. Nothing made sense. Not even the simplest of things made sense, like the prospect of a cold shower on a Thursday night.

No, none of it made sense.

My eyes shifted to the bath and shower, and I glared icily at the faucet, which glinted at me merrily.

It was becoming a bit of a ritual, this. I stepped out of my clothing quite easily and made for the shower, turning the tap on full blast at a moderate temperature.

Yes, soon all of the thoughts and feelings that Yuffie had stirred up would all be gone, and I would no longer be plagued by this desire to tear those little shorts off of her and throw her over a desk. My hand trembled as I touched the dial, but I did not bother to turn it. I closed my eyes.

Mistake. I could see her playful smile and the suggestive arch of her eyebrow as she slid backwards onto my desk. A few pieces of what I was sure was important paperwork fluttered, unnoticed, to the ground, and in a blatantly lewd gesture she parted her legs-- slowly, sensually.

I groaned, but I did not have the willpower to turn the knob all the way to cold. Why should I? It was her fault I was in this situation. She was the cute and funny and pretty and dangerously wicked one of the two of us. What had I ever done to cause any of this? I had initiated a little game of pranks, but if she had known my intention, she would have never been so cruel as to taunt me with those lips.

Once again the event played out in my mind like a movie. Well, more like some kind of a porno. She was trapped between me and the wall, and I could feel every inch of her move as she wriggled against me, trying half-heartedly to free herself.

My problem was now far past the point of being ignorable, and without much thought I gripped my erection in my hand, hissing loud over the sound of the water beating off of the tile and my body.

It wasn't my fault that the reason I had gotten into this whole mess was due to this apparent need I had to see her happy, when it seemed like the only person in the world who could make her smile didn't care so much as to give her a call and let her know he was alive.

It wasn't my fault that she walked around in the office scantily clad and cheerful.

It wasn't my fault that when I had her up against the wall that afternoon I realized she smelled of cherry blossoms and lavender.

It wasn't my fault that when I closed my eyes, I could see her smoky grey eyes gazing at me from the corners of my memory ingrained imagination.

It wasn't my fault that when I jerked off in the shower like some common, indecent man, unable to reign in animalistic urges, I panted her name.

It wasn't my fault.

* * *

I slept, thankfully very soundly, that night; although I closed my eyes with a weight of guilt dragging the lids down, and woke in a very similar state. My alarm clock sang shrilly at me, before, with the weight of a dead man, my hand came crashing down on it.

"Fuck off," I mumbled, face planted in my pillow.

My request was short lived, however, for exactly nine minutes later, the perpetrator returned, disguised with the voice of a weather reporter, cheerfully exclaiming that on this sunny July day, the temperatures in Edge would reach record highs.

I sighed and turned my head to face the clock radio, reading a disgruntled 7:09 glaring at me in red. The weather woman chirped on for another few minutes, discussing the possibility of smog alters and other dangers associated to the hot weather, and I stared blankly at it until the nine turned to a ten, and then resignedly reached over and switched it off, dragging my tired bones out of bed.

The weather woman was right, and I was glad to be headed straight to a nice air conditioned office that morning, even as I left my car to go inside. I offered a weak smile to Pemille as I passed her office, and swung into my own, rather abruptly. On my desk, as usual, was a mug of steaming hot coffee, a newspaper, and a brief agenda of the scheduled meetings and phone calls I had that day.

Ah, beloved order.

Meeting in the board room with the public health department, a short phone call with the head of transportation, and then Tseng was to meet with me to go over the finer details of what Monday's initiation of training was going to look like. I read down the list, nodding at this and that, sipping from my coffee.

"Morning, Reevey!" Her voice was sickly sweet, and I felt a grating shiver crawl up my spine.

"Good morning, Yuffie," I replied not looking up. I had seen enough of her last night, visions of her floating tirelessly through my mind.

"You busy?"

"I have fifteen minutes to enjoy my coffee and check my e-mails before I need to head to the board office, but otherwise, no, not for now. What's up?" My solitary thoughts diminished, apparently, and I glanced up at her, offering her a smile.

She slid into my office, as I expected she would at any inkling of an invitation. "I'm bored."

I didn't bother to point out she had only just arrived, because I doubted that boredom was really what she was feeling. Pushing aside the awkward feelings running circles in my head, I leaned back against the desk and looked pointedly at her from behind my coffee mug. "Hear from Tifa today?"

I knew by the way her face fell that I had hit a nerve.

"No, but it's really early in Nibleheim still..."

I nodded in agreement, although I recognized her attempt at self-assurance. "Of course, how ridiculous of me to forget."

Her eyes left my face and fell to the floor as she scratched behind her neck. "So, uh, did you do anything fun last night?"

Burning hot coffee hurts particularly badly when one swallows suddenly, trying to prevent themselves from choking. I became aware of this fact quickly, and coughed brutally with wide eyes while Yuffie looked on with curious concern and amusement.

"Forget how to swallow, huh?"

She didn't know that I was thinking of my activities the night prior; of her face in my head constantly, an imaginary companion for imaginary pleasure.

"I'm okay," I rasped.

She giggled, and I clutched my coffee even tighter. "Sure thing, boss man. Call me if you have any trouble breathing or blinking or something."

I made a face at her as she sauntered back to the door. "Have fun in your meeting, Reevey!"

I shot her a withering look.

"Oh, and I hope you realize we never called a truce."

My eyes widened. "A truce?"

"Yeah, you know, to our game?" She was leaning on the doorframe, smiling wickedly. "Just thought I'd let you know that the stink bomb I put in your car is fair game."

I groaned. "You didn't."

She was gone. All I saw was what was left of her as she skipped out of my office, fingers waving behind her in a lack-lustre farewell. I could feel a headache working its way into my head at the prospect of another day full of childish pranks... or not so childish pranks. Like always, the mere thought sent images rushing to my head.

Maybe one more day wasn't so bad; at least it gave me ample chance to exact the revenge she so deserved.

* * *

**Author's Note:**_Haha, poor Reeve. I'm going to have to up the rating before I get my ass kicked for being too pushy with the T rating. haha. If anyone has any problems with that, let me know and I might arrange to post the M rated story elsewhere, if people would rather I do it that way. Anyway, I miss hearing from you guys, so I hope to hear what you all think. As usual, I'm looking for your opinions concerning future chapters, and advice on things like Vincent's returns etc._


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:**_ Hey again everyone. I want to apologize briefly for the amount of time it took to get this stupid chapter written. I'm not even all that pleased with the results. Hopefull you guys like it, but feel free to give me some feedback on how to make it better. I think it's mostly a problem with fluidity. It seems choppy to me. Anyway, enough of that. On with the next chapter!_

* * *

I figured that when the time came for revenge, I would know exactly what she was worth. It was with this mindset that I carried on throughout the day, seemingly very unconcerned with the fact that the ninja was probably doing a number of various things to my personal belongings while I was out of the office. She would get what's coming to her, and I didn't need to worry about how or when I was going to exact that revenge, because when the time came, I would know.

It came quite promptly, much to my schedule's dismay.

My two o'clock was with Tseng in my office, much less of a meeting so much as a discussion, which proved to be quite lively and informative. We proposed strategies for launching the new program, argued over policy, but most of the time there was a balance; consisting of honesty and compromise. My mind was almost entirely off of Yuffie and we tossed ideas back and forth; I hadn't had a discussion as good as this in a long time. It was invigorating, really; almost made you work up a sweat.

Speaking of which, I had noticed the difference in temperature the moment I had come back from my board meeting, but I hadn't thought anything of it.

It was not until I had stripped my coat and Tseng had pulled his hair uncomfortably away from his neck that I clued in to the possibility that the air conditioner might not be working.

"Hold that thought, Tseng," I muttered, striding across the room to the register, waving my hand palm down over the vents. "No activity, it's as I thought."

"Central air is down?"

I nodded. "Well maybe they're working on it. Carry on."

They weren't working on it. They didn't even know there was anything to work on, because Yuffie had only mucked with the system to affect this room. Instead of the vents pouring refreshing cool air into my office, she had messed around with the thermostat and raised the temperature several degrees above comfortable.

Of course, I didn't realize this until my sleeves were rolled up, neck tie loose and the top few buttons of my dress shirt were undone. Tseng looked no less ragged, but every time I asked him if he wanted to reschedule, he promised he had experienced worse, and reminded me that we were making good progress. Indeed, genius is a process that should not be interrupted at any expense.

It was a work of mastery. I had to give her that. I chuckled at the thought of her poking at wires, cackling manically, thanking Leviathan I had insisted on giving her a basic electronics lesson. And here I thought she hadn't been paying attention.

Tseng, hearing my laugh turned to me, eyebrow cocked. "Something funny, Tuesti?"

His usually neat and tidy appearance had been sacrificed to the heat; and I laughed again. "As a matter of fact, yes, quite."

I was useless for the rest of the conversation. My mind was caught up on both my discomfort in temperature and the fact that Yuffie was the cause of it.

We were both down to our button ups by the time Tseng called it quits, his face directed at the electric fan I had dragged out of the closet; hair whisking away in its breeze. "I'll be here first thing tomorrow morning, if you have time."

I cracked half of a smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

I explained briefly to Pamille about the issue and she jumped to attention, calling up maintenance and sending them to my office, insisting that I take the rest of the day off. I protested, but as I saw the Turk out, I rethought my decision; instead a large part of me wanted to find Yuffie and perhaps use this whole ordeal to my advantage.

... I didn't know how I was going to do so, but I was already well on my way to finding her before that problem entered my head, and I figured it was too late now. I'd just have to roll with it.

I found her in the break room, not quite sure how my feet had gotten there; but when I spotted her talking casually to an officer, leaning up against the counter, I stopped in the doorway, staring at her.

There was none such thing as an intention in my gaze; my mind was far too blank for such a thing, but I must have sent out some kind of vibe, because as soon as my presence was realized the lingering officers made excuses to go and quickly slipped out, offering 'good afternoon, sir' s as they passed. They almost looked a little afraid of me, and I would have taken some perverse pleasure in that if the look I was getting from Yuffie wasn't one of complete confidence. She looked so confident, even, (with her smug little smile and one hand on her hip) that it was starting to make me a little nervous.

I cleared my throat and shifted my weight off of the door frame. "Good trick, that."

"Trick?" she repeated, dumbly.

"The thermostat in my office? You learned that from me, you know. Crafty."

She smirked. "And here you thought I hadn't paid attention."

"I'm starting to wish that had been true. There are a few things I mentioned that could potentially destroy Edge."

She shifted slightly, folding her arms over her chest. "I know how to give Cait a sex change, if I wanted to."

I laughed, startled at the prospect, and half imagining what Cait would look like in a dress. And then I realized that she might actually have the gall to make it a reality, and my previous mission of revenge was brought to the foreground once again.

_But how!?_

I silently prayed for a sign.

And then I caught her gaze, and realized she was looking at me with interest. I suddenly realized I must have looked like a slob; no coat, and half of the buttons of my shirt undone; not to mention the musty smell of my sweat from being trapped in that office for so long.

Maybe now wasn't the time to be... I looked up from my dishevelled appearance and caught her looking at me again. Her confidence from before wasn't showing; it wasn't shining in her eyes like it usually did.

I wasn't sure what that meant, but in an act of pure chance, I went with my instinct.

"Yuffie, I was wondering if we could call it a truce."

Wimp, you say. You coward. You yellow-bellied nuisance to society. Well to you I roll my eyes and say, shut up and watch.

I strolled over to her, looking genuine.

She offered a meagre attempt at a scoff, and turned away from me. "You're just afraid you're going to wake up with an army of female Cait's tomorrow morning."

I gently grabbed her elbow, forcing her to face me. "Yuffie, it's been fun, but I've taken it too far."

She arched an eyebrow, and some of the hesitancy she had shown disappeared. "_You've_ taken it too far? Is that implying that you're _winning?_"

I tried my best to look shocked; offended even. "Yuffie, that isn't what I mean..."

"Because I'll tell you Tuesti, you haven't got anything on me."

"I don't mean it like that, Yuffie. I'm not trying to declare a winner."

"Then just what are you trying to declare?" she accused, eyebrows drawn.

I sighed, shifting my weight. "Nothing. It's getting old; that's all."

"Bah, you're just complaining because I'm better at this than you." She was still not one hundred percent comfortable, and I was dying to know why.

"Yuffie, look at me."

She glared at me for a split second and then looked away.

"Yuffie..."

"Gawd, Reeve, don't you have other more important things to be doing?"

"Nothing in particular, why?"

"I don't know; you're boring me."

"Really."

"Really, really," she insisted, her hand pressing against my chest for a brief second before she retracted it once more, quickly.

"Well, then, do we have a truce?"

"Truce!? Hah! I see through this. This is a prank in and of itself! You think you can waltz on in here with your shirt all unbuttoned and your hair all..." she glared again. "Ruffled... and get me all hot and bothered, well you are wrong, mister! Dead wrong!"

She went on in this fashion for quite a time, but my mind had fixed upon her initial accusation.

She thought I was attractive? I felt a weight lift off of my chest, as another one settled in the pit of my stomach, a feeling that was not made any better by the knowledge that this was a physical attraction alone. There was part of me; a very horrible, awful part of me that didn't care. A part that would be happy with just sex and nothing more; but this was heavily outweighed by the rest of me, who couldn't bear to have it that way. There was too much to her that made me smile; too much to lose. My eyes softened on her, adoring, and rather sad, but I doubt she noticed as she wound down her rant.

"I mean, it's only natural, right?"

"Yuffie," I began, ignoring her. "Do you love him?"

Her eyes snapped to my face. "What? Who?"

I willed my hand not to shake as I lifted it to her face, brushing her jaw. "Vincent, Yuffie; are you in love with him?"

"Vinnie?" she exclaimed. "Oh Gawd no. Nope, nope, noperz." Her eyes flew around the room; to the ceiling, the door and finally to my shoulder, but she never looked me in the face. She looked frightened and vulnerable, and I felt some guilt for having brought it up.

Looking back, I'm not sure why I did it. I knew she was lying. First of all, she was never very good at it, and secondly, being around her so often had made me adept at deciphering her, and this was a classic lie. Perhaps, however, it was her very distinct (although deceitful) verbal dismissal that made me seem to think it was okay; that made me believe that her lips were fair game.

She froze when I kissed her, and although my eyes were closed, I knew hers were wide open, staring in shock as her body stood paralyzed in the break room.

That small piece of man I had mentioned earlier; the asshole pig one? Yeah, you remember him. He took over; insensitive as ever, as greedy as men's sex drives are wont to be, but once he had his taste, the rest of me went with it, and as my hand tilted her neck back, and my tongue traced her lips, I wanted to believe her lie, more than anything in this world. I wanted to believe that when Vincent came home, her eyes would be fixed to mine, and I wouldn't see them flicker wayward to the doorway.

In an instant I will never forget until the day I die; I felt her lips respond beneath mine and hope rose in my chest. Her mouth opened ever so slightly and her tongue tentatively greeted mine, hesitant, frightened, but curious. I'm not a poet, and therefore incapable of doing justice with words to the taste of her, but beyond the surface sweetness it was coveted, forbidden, and entirely wrong. When her hesitancy began to slip away and it felt less like I was robbing her of this kiss and more like I was sharing it, I was almost fooled into thinking her lie wasn't so much of a lie anymore. I was almost convinced that I was what she wanted. Almost.

When her hand clutched the front of my shirt in an almost desperate fashion and she moaned softly; I was reminded of just what I was doing; of just how much I cared if this woman's heart was broken, by either someone else's carelessness or mine. I broke away from her, frowning.

She looked at me, confused; then looked away again.

"See?" I said, not bothering to look at her. I tried for my sake, for her sake, for the sake of something, to crack a joking smile. "I've taken it too far."

* * *

For the rest of the day, she made it her mission to make her pranks as frequent and disrupting as possible.

I didn't do much to stop them. I deserved every one she threw in my direction. She nattered constantly about nonsense, something she knew I hated, but I sat at my desk and took it, venturing to make a sarcastic remark every once in a while in a futile attempt to appear as if unaffected.

I was remembering Pemille's advice to take the rest of the day off, and thought about visiting Tifa's place to make sure the rascals were doing alright by themselves. Having Marlene beat me at video games would be unfathomably better than having to sit and think and rethink about the day's incidents.

With a sadistic smirk I saw Yuffie poke her head into my office.

"Yes?"

"Pamille told me you better get to the board office, your meeting started ten minutes ago."

My eyes widened. "I thought she had cancelled for me!"

Yuffie shrugged and looked at her finger nails, unconcerned. "Guess not."

I raced there as fast as I could, while still looking dignified, to find the room was empty and the lights were turned off. I rang Pemille to ask if they had left, and was informed it had been cancelled.

I laughed bitterly and hung up, glaring into the dark meeting room. It was eerily serene in this place, where usually it was a busy, stressful environment. I stepped into it, closing the door behind me, and leaning my back against it.

In exhaustion and agony my eyes fell closed, and my fingers blindly fumbled around my phone, finding the power button and turning it off. I could hide here safely without being disturbed; alone with my guilt, with my disappointment, and with the lingering memories of those few seconds wherein which I was almost disillusioned to the fact that she was in love with another man.

I had been there for at least an hour, sitting at the table, lost in my thoughts, when I heard the door knob turn and light flooded into the room. I blinked, trying to make out the silhouette.

"Reeve!"

It was Yuffie, she sounded out of breath.

"So you found me," I drawled. "Come to send me on another wild goose chase?"

I saw her shake her head, exasperated, out of the corner of my eye. "They-- they found him."

"Not falling for it," I muttered, hoping it was another prank. My stomach flipped at the possibility that she was telling the truth.

"How could you think I would joke about this?" she exclaimed, gripping the door.

I had to think about that. It wasn't really that I didn't believe her; it was that I didn't _want_ to believe her. I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to be as far away from her or Vincent the moment she saw him again.

I stood from my chair and scratched the back of my neck. However, more than anything, I wanted to see her smile-- _really_ smile-- again. "I'll drive."

* * *

**Author's Note:**_ Well, that's that! Another chapter down! Tell me what you thought!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **_Hey everyone; sorry about the long wait, again. Hopefully you still enjoy it!_

_

* * *

  
_

When we got to the company car in the parking garage (mine was out of commission due to Yuffie's stink bomb prank) she looked at me over the roof of the car, eyes anxious and entirely too innocent. "Why did you kiss me?" she asked simply.

She was holding the passenger door open, waiting for my reply, and I vomited the best one I could think of as quickly as I could. "Would you have rather I put laxatives in your coffee?"

_xxx_

The ride to Tifa's bar was mostly silent, but for the sake of sanity I attempted to strike up a conversation, which was mostly met with one-word answers of dismissal. I sighed and resorted to concentrating on the road, willing to understand the likelihood that her mind was running in circles around one subject alone.

I let the silence settle, winding down streets until the familiar tavern beacon caught my eye. "Almost there," I muttered.

"I know," she replied, and it bothered me how very little emotion was on her face or in her voice.

I parked and pulled off my seatbelt, pausing to glance over at her. She was staring ahead of us at the front door of the bar, her belt still latched, but hand on the buckle as if she had meant to undo it but had gotten distracted.

"Yuffie?"

"You know when you have this plan in your head? When you have it all figured out how your life is going to turn out? But all of the sudden, something happens to make you wonder if that's really the way life is going to go."

I didn't reply, simply gazing at her, mouth hanging open slightly.

"I'm in love with him, Reeve."

I knew, but my heart clenched in misery anyway.

"But..." her voice cracked. "But I don't know if that's the way my life is going to pan out, you know?"

It took every ounce of strength in me to reach over and take her hand, reminding myself again and again that she didn't need a love triangle, she didn't need my love; she needed a friend.

"You'll never know until you go in there, Yuffie," I replied, surprised at how level and confident my voice sounded. She looked over at me and I flashed at her my most winning smile, squeezing her hand. "Come on, I'll go with you. It'll be fine."

She finally made it out of the car and we headed toward the bar with me in the lead and the usually confident ninja in toe, too frightened to look over my shoulder.

"Come on, Yuffie," I said, half glancing at her. "He's been gone a long time, I'm sure he misses you."

"Not enough to come home on his own," she muttered in response.

I faced away from her and swallowed uneasily. The pain coursed through my veins relentlessly, but I couldn't tell what hurt me more; knowing Yuffie was in love with Vincent, or listening to her heart broken words.

_xxx_

Tifa saw us first. "Hi Reeve! Hi Yuffie!"

I smiled and waved. "Good afternoon, Tifa. Is the gang all here?"

"All but Cid," she replied. "I sent him to get a couple cases of beer."

I laughed. "Celebration is well under way, then?"

As we reached the doorway, I could see more of them. Cloud and Barret greeted us from behind their drinks, and Marlene and Denzel waves furiously from where they were playing with Nanaki.

Vaguely I could sense Yuffie was feeling less anxious, simply by the way that he hand loosened its grip on my coat. I could also tell she had seen Vincent, but for a different, more obvious reason.

"YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH!"

"Yuffie, language!" Tifa barked.

The ninja didn't hear her, and I followed her gaze to the corner of the bar that I should have known would occupy the gunslinger.

"I WAS WORRIED _SICK_."

He stood graciously and bowed his head apologetically, looking up just in time to see her fly at him, and to catch her in his arms.

I swallowed uneasily as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and had to look away when he eased his arms around her, holding her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I missed you, you jerk," she muttered into his shoulder.

"I missed you too. I have... been meaning to speak to you." Missed? Wanting to speak to her? Who the hell was this man? I felt if I dwelled on it any longer, my bitterness would soon have me thinking illogically.

"Tifa?" I looked to her for a distraction, and she seemed to sense it.

"How about a beer?"

"That sounds perfect."

_ xxx_

It was usually up to Vincent to be the loner in the corner, but since he was outside speaking to Yuffie, I took on that role myself.

I should really have been happy for her. Vincent's response to her greeting was overall favourable, and now she at least had her friend back. It's getting repetitive, these thoughts of mine. Over and over they circled around my desire to see Yuffie happy, and how I should be satisfied by the fact that all would be well when Vincent was back and she was smiling again.

Well here we were; Vincent was back, Yuffie was smiling, and I was depressed. In reflection, I suppose I hadn't truly believed Vincent was going to be any different when he came back. I had been banking on him being callous and uncaring toward the emotionally vulnerable girl who was hoping to win his affections. Why? Because I'm a horrible person, that's why.

I'd been fooling myself with this selfless act. It was all just a way of preserving myself and my feelings up until this point, but now I was left to face the dismal defeat of my carefully made plans. I wanted to be the arms she could fall into when her infatuation with Vincent fell through. I wanted to be there for her, let her cry on my shoulder, dry her tears and be the one who showed her she was beautiful and show her that she deserved more than to be brushed aside by a broken man confused about his own existence.

I'm not sure when I had fooled myself into believing this would be the way things would go, but now that it was plain that my scheme wasn't going to work, I felt all the more bitter because of it. I was convinced that Vincent and Yuffie were out on the porch explaining to each other how they felt and carefully treading around the remains of their friendship; picking up the pieces required for the journey into the land of 'something more'.

Tifa smiled at me from the bar where she was chatting with Cid, who had returned not long ago with his promised delivery of alcohol. I offered a weak grimace of a smile in return, making half an attempt at looking like I was enjoying myself. I really just wanted to go home. I wanted a long hot shower, a glass (or bottle) of wine and to fall asleep with classical music blaring through my condo.

I was beginning to plot my escape when I heard my name from across the room, and saw Cid waving me over, luring me with the prospect of another beer.

I wanted to decline, but it wasn't in my nature, no matter how badly I wanted to sulk. I was in politics. It was bred into me to smile and act as if everything were perfect when really everything was going to hell in a hand basket.

I joined them with a friendly greeting, sitting on a stool next to Cid.

"Glad you've joined us, there, Reeve. What were you doing way the hell over there nursing a beer with a glare set to kill?"

I laughed it off, reaching for a full bottle. "Just a stressful day today."

"Tell me about it. This whole fuckin' week has been one fuckin' thing after another. I'm sick of it, damnit."

Tifa smiled sympathetically. "But at least Vincent is safe now, right?"

"Yeh, I suppose things'll start looking up now."

"One can only hope," I commented half-heartedly.

"Where in hells name is he, anyway?"

"Outside," I replied, a little too quickly. "With Yuffie."

"Ahh. Well the girl deserves the chance to rip him a new asshole. Leaving her high and dry like that. It's not right that. Not what good friends are meant to do."

"I think he had some things to work out," Tifa said plaintively. "I think the time alone was what he needed."

"Ain't no excuse for not tellin' no one where he was off to, y'know? We was all worrying sick over the bastard and he was just hanging out, happy as a clam, under that damn waterfall. He coulda been dead and not one of us would have known any different," Cid argued, glaring at the door that lead to where the pair were apparently hashing it out.

I was reminded again of the long week of morose Yuffie; the pranks, the rants, the tearful breakdowns. "She hasn't been herself."

"Can you blame her?" Tifa asked. "She's had a crush on him for forever."

As much as I wanted to, no, I couldn't blame her. I was a demonstration of the rule that you couldn't help who you fell in love with, and Yuffie was no exception. However, I retained the right to my belief that you can fall in love with the wrong person. Whether that was the case for Yuffie or for me, I wasn't sure.

"I sure wish he'da just called."

The martial artist's knuckles crack and my head jerks to see her kneading one hand into the palm of the other. "I just hope he's sorted things out, because if he thinks he can get away with hurting her, he's got another thing coming to him."

They were both absorbed in their own thoughts. Cid's perspective the fatherly role-model to the girl, and Tifa's the best girlfriend and confidant.

I wondered where I fit in. Was I just the shoulder to cry on while everyone else was gone? Would she have chosen Tifa to talk to over me? Would she have gone to Cid with her pranks?

They probably would have handled her better than I. They would have been concerned entirely for her, rather than this selfish half hate of a man who had once been a good friend that I was feeling. It made my stomach churn.

I'm a good man. A good guy. A nice guy, even. I'm that guy who is easy going, still strict enough to work in politics, but generally just _a nice guy. _And yet here I was, actually disappointed that a friend had come home safely, and selfishly wishing that the girl outside with him was instead in here with me. I was sitting there actively wanting to physically remove her from the guy she claimed to be in love with.

"Another beer, Tifa?" I hadn't even realized I had finished mine when I asked for the next, but sure enough, I looked down at the bottle in my hands to find it was empty.

"Alright, but I'll need your keys for the time being."

I handed them over wordlessly; I'd sleep on the couch if I had to.

* * *

**Author's Note**_: Well there it is. I'm not overly pleased with it, but at least it's here._


	10. Chapter 10

_~A long wait, I know, but I hope it's worth it. Sorry it's short._

* * *

I, for a man of my size, handled liquor incredibly well, but in my defence, _anyone_ who drank as much as I had on the night of Vincent's return would not be handling it well.

In the morning I laughed at myself. I laughed at the fact that I had actually passed out on Tifa's couch, laughed at the reason why I had consumed so much alcohol in the first place, and then laughed at the pathetically disgusting jealous coveting bitter fool I had become because of it all.

As my eyes groggily peered open to see the ceiling of Tifa's living room, I searched around in the recesses of my brain for a detailed recollection of what had occurred the previous evening. The last thing I could recall was talking to Cid and Tifa at the bar for quite some time, and handing Tifa my keys in exchange for what would accumulate to be at least half a dozen beers.

After that though... things got hazy.

I sat up, regretfully massaging my temples. God it was bright in there. When I mustered the courage to reopen my eyes, I was startled to see Cloud standing in front of me with his arms folded across his chest and an annoyed look on his face.

"You sober?" he asked.

An odd question, but I nodded.

"Good."

And then, folks, I was promptly punched in the shoulder. By Cloud. Who is supremely strong.

"What the hell!?" I cried; clutching what at the time felt like a dislocated arm.

"Keep it down, people are sleeping," he muttered, manoeuvring around the coffee table to sit down on the arm of the sofa that I had made my bed last night.

"You told me things last night," he said, a pained expression on his face. "Things that you probably would not have told me if you had been sober."

My eyes widened, and I wondered how many of my fetishes he was now aware of.

"Listen man. Yuffie's my friend..."

Oh. Just that one.

"And so are you."

OH SHIT, THAT ONE.

"I don't want to see anybody get hurt, but I also do not want to be in the middle of this. So just because I was unfortunate enough to walk past you when the tequila got you, it does not mean that I want to be the messenger boy."

Ironic, considering his chosen profession.

"I understand, Cloud. I can't remember anything from last night, but I assure you I haven't the slightest sober intention of acting on any feelings I may have for Yuffie."

It didn't completely remove the unease from his face, but it certainly helped to ease some of his discomfort.

"You still look concerned," I pointed out.

"I am still concerned. You're only part of the problem."

Now I was concerned. "What happened last night?"

"Well, Yuffie left."

My eyes widened. "Why? Was it Vincent?"

"Well, I think so."

"What did he do? Is he upstairs? Did you punch him as hard as you punched me?"

"He's gone too."

"Gone?"

"He left with Yuffie."

This opened up a fear in me I hadn't thought was actually possible. "Well, where did they go?"

"No one knows."

I stood up from the couch entirely too quickly for a man who had passed out drunk on the very same couch the night before. Before I knew it, Cloud was standing too, and his hand was planted firmly on my shoulder to keep me upright. "Reeve, you just told me you weren't going to make this complicated."

My hazy eyes focussed first on the carpet and then shifted to his face. "I said I wasn't going to act on my feelings for Yuffie, Cloud, not leave her wandering alone in Midgar."

Cloud didn't have to say anything for me to know I was acting ridiculous.

"Go upstairs and go back to sleep, Reeve. You can't hold your liquor as well as a twenty-year-old anymore."

I sighed. I didn't hold my liquor as well as a thirty-year-old anymore either.

"Besides," he continued. "She's with Vincent, and he will take care of her."

"Of course." I believed it too. They were close friends, and even if Yuffie was upset over him leaving her for so long, he would still go to great lengths to make sure she stayed safe. "I should really go home, Cloud. Thanks for the couch," I said.

He chuckled. "Anytime, Reeve."

* * *

I don't remember much about the next few weeks. I spent a lot of time working; anything to distract me. I gave Yuffie and Vincent a lot of time off, despite my need of both of them to get things off the ground and running smoothly again, but I didn't want to look at either of them.

But no one can avoid rumours.

"I heard they went to Nibleheim together, on their vacation time."

"Who?" I asked absent-mindedly as I flipped through my mail. Pamille and another female employee (whose name I embarrassingly couldn't recall) looked up at me.

"Yuffie and Mr. Valentine," they stated at once, looking at me as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Of course, it was the most obvious thing in the world, but I hadn't expected to hear it from the likes of them. I discovered after a day or two after Vincent's return that the two of them had taken off back to Nibelheim to say a final farewell to the ShinRa Mansion's basement and to pay Lucrecia a final visit.

"Do you think they're an item?"

"Gosh, how could they not be? Did you see the way Yuffie was mooning over him around here after he disappeared?"

"Can you blame her?"

I grunted and turned to leave, but not soon enough to avoid hearing my secretary admit she would also like a piece of Vincent for herself.

Well, there goes your backup plan, Reeve.

* * *

The WRO was very lucky that they had a neurotic workaholic for a commissioner. Every time my mind landed on Yuffie, I picked up a pen and some paperwork and sat down and forced myself to do it. Work was more important. Work was changing the world for the better, not causing grief for myself and my friends. Work was not painful to think about. Work was not an enigmatic ninja with killer legs. Work was not a smile that could change my day from bad to good.

I spent a lot of time with Tifa, because where Tifa was, alcohol was.

"You don't look good, Reeve."

I waved her concern away with a dismissive flick of my wrist. "Just tired is all. I've been working hard these last few weeks. Lots of things to do; developing new procedure, new policies, new systems… It's been a good year for change."

"For all of us, it seems," she replied with a smile.

She meant well, with those words, even though they struck me hard in the heart.

"Yes, it would seem so," I croaked. I wanted more of that whiskey she had clutched in her hand, and I gestured that she should appease me.

"I heard from them the other day," she said by way of conversation, as though I was interested in hearing about their fortune. "They sound like they are quite content."

"Content?" I echoed. What an ambiguous word. I was content when Tifa poured me another tumbler of whiskey, but my insides were in shreds.

"Yuffie tells me that they are coming home soon."

"Home?"

"To Edge, I mean."

I wondered vaguely if they would be returning to work at the WRO, and I wondered vaguely how far away I could send them again.

"How… how did she sound?" I asked, hesitantly.

"Oh, I don't know." She didn't look at me when she answered; she kept her eyes on counter she was scrubbing. "Happy."

"Are they…" I had to know if it was official. Did Vincent feel the same? Were they together? Were they happy? I needed the closure like I needed the alcohol.

"No. Well I mean… I don't know." She looked upset the next time she glanced up at me. Her regular smile was replaced with a lopsided frown. "Reeve, Cloud told me."

When had I finished that third whiskey? Why was she hurriedly pouring me a fourth? Had I already given her my keys? How was I getting home? Why was she holding my hand, and what was that she was saying?

"I haven't said anything to Yuffie, Reeve, but I think that you should."

"Tifa." I found my voice was firm and unwavering, much to my surprise. "This is not something I want to talk about."

"I know but—"

I smiled sardonically and shook my head. "No, Tifa. You don't know." My fingers squeezed hers, and I made to get up, but the martial artist's grip on my hand grew tighter, and I was compelled to stay,

"Reeve, I have been love with Cloud for ten years."

I had known, but to hear her say it and to do the math mentally as I sat with her there in Seventh Heaven, I wondered if maybe she knew a little better than I had accused her of.

"Well, is it worth the wait?"

"Of course…" There was hesitancy, there was doubt.

I knew the look in her eye. One that spoke of the years of uncertainty she had suffered when she had been unsure if a future with Cloud was ever a possibility; of the tears she had shed when a certain flower girl (her sister, oh Aeris, you don't know what you're doing to me) was as close to him as she needed to be, and held onto his heart even after she was taken from them.

Yet there she was; after ten years of patiently waiting for him to realize she was everything he had ever wanted and needed, she finally had him.

"How did you _do_ it?" I gasped desperately. My head landed in the cradle created by my arm on the bar top, my opposite hand still caught up in the barmaid's.

I felt her kiss on the top of my head, soft and affectionate like a mother's. She had no words, because there is never anything anyone can say when you've fallen for the wrong person, and your life is a decaying, mangled mess of 'what ifs'. I couldn't blame her; I just clung to that hand, because if she ever let go, I might have too.

* * *

_~Let me know what you thought._

_Love, Lynn._


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **_Uhhhhh... Absence makes the heart grow fonder? I'm sorry about the terribly long wait. I'm sure you've all lost hope by now, but alas, I have another chapter for you!_

* * *

"Miss Kisaragi is here to see you, Mr Tuesti."

I blinked at my secretary, but she just smiled and placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of me, picking up the files in the 'out' bin on her way back to her desk.

Yuffie walked in shortly after she left.

"Hi."

It was the best thing I could come up with that didn't involve collapsing into a heap of exhausted sobs.

"Hi."

I blinked.

"I'm back."

"I see this."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. "I was wondering if there was any work to be done around here, you know, like… spy stuff."

"Gongaga," I blurted abruptly.

"Gongaga?" she repeated, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Uh…" I shuffled some papers around, looking for the file that contained the reports about black market activity in the jungles of Gongaga, something I had been saving for her so I could send her as far away from Edge as possible when she decided to show her face. Finding it (naturally) at the bottom of the heap, I thrust it toward her, and she fumbled to take it from me. "Some shifty black market stuff… I need a pair of eyes down there."

"Oh."

"Yup."

She tucked the file under her arm. "Oh, by the way, I've been talking to Vinnie."

Talking? Oh I bet you have.

"He's been meaning to stop by, let you know he's willing to help out again—"

"Tseng has taken over all of his responsibilities. He need not feel obligated to return."

She shifted slightly. "He needs to get out of the house more anyway. I'll let him know you're super excited."

"Fine."

"Well, that was all. I'll… see you when I'm done in Gongaga."

"Three months." I supplied, motioning to the file.

"Three!"

I nodded vaguely. "It's really quite important, Yuffie."

"Oh, okay."

I had been expecting more of an argument, but didn't say anything to provoke one.

I stared at her a minute, then turned away abruptly, shuffling papers that didn't need to be shuffled. "If that's all then, Yuffie, I have a ton of work to get back to."

"Oh. Yeah. See you Reevey."

"Goodbye."

I didn't even look up at her when she left, and continued to stare at my desk long after I had heard the door close behind her, the shutters on the door rattling against the glass.

* * *

"You're certainly spending an awful lot of time at the bar lately," Cloud greeted accusingly, plopping down on a bar stool beside me.

"I'm trying to meet women," I muttered in bland sarcasm. Cloud chuckled.

"I like that you come to visit me," Tifa interjected, placing a drink in front of me. "Don't let Cloud scare you off."

The blond to my right frowned. "I just think there are healthier methods of moving on than alcohol," he said. "Yuffie wouldn't be very happy to know you've been attempting to pickle your liver since she and Vincent hooked up."

"Yes, well," I muttered, corralling my drink into the crook of my arm. "We can't all be happy all of the time, can we?"

"Apparently not," Tifa agreed. "I hear you're sending her to Gongaga."

I should have known word would travel quickly between females. "She came to me to ask for work. I gave her work."

"South of the equator," Cloud pointed out skeptically.

"Well you know how it is down there."

"All too well," Tifa muttered. "It's no place to send a young woman."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Yuffie's not just any 'young woman', you know. She'd skin you if she ever heard you say that she was incapable of following through on a mission."

Tifa sighed and looked away. "Of course I know that, but after everything can you blame me for wanting to keep the people I love close?"

My mouth twisted into a frown and I apologized quietly. Of course she had a right to want to keep her friends safe, and I should have taken that into account instead of arbitrarily sending another of our people off into danger; so soon after the last one was miraculously returned to us.

I took solace in the fact that Vincent was probably with her, but perhaps I had made a mistake.

* * *

The mistake was made obvious when I arrived at work the one morning a couple weeks later to find Vincent waiting patiently for me in my office. He had his psych files neatly piled in his lap and was sipping a cup of coffee as he flipped through them absent-mindedly.

"Vincent? What are you doing here?" I asked.

He looked up. "You asked me to come in when I had time to discuss resuming my position at the WRO."

I shoved my hand through my hair. "Yeah, I remember, but—where's Yuffie?"

"Gongaga. You sent her."

"I know that." I frantically tugged at my tie, straightening the knot. It was beginning to occur to me that I had just sent Yuffie alone into the jungles of Gongaga to deal with black market activity _by herself._ "But _why are you here?_"

Vincent blinked slowly at me. "You asked me to come here—"

"Why aren't you with her!" I snapped finally.

"She's on assignment."

"So?"

"So I'm letting her do her job—Tuesti, am I missing something? Do you have reason to think that Yuffie is not capable of performing the duties you assigned her to?"

My eyes snapped to his. "No… No!" I sighed. I had to remember that she was a more than capable ninja, and that she could hold her own. Still I didn't want to have to face Tifa's wrath if anything ever happened to her. "Let me see your files, has the shrink cleared you?"

He wordlessly handed over the paperwork.

I took a breath and opened the file, scanning over the in-house psychiatrist's chicken scratch notes taken over the three mandatory assessments I make any soldier returning to work attend after any involvement (primary or secondary) in a high stress situation.

Yuffie had been mandated to attend these sessions as well, and she passed narrowly on her sixth session, due to the psychiatrist's suggestion that perhaps she'd mend better if her mind was kept from idling.

According to the concluding notes on Vincent's file, he was 'emotionally and mentally stable enough to resume his post'. My eyes floated over a portion of text describing Vincent's emotional stability as being satisfactory. I narrowed my eyes and read the sentence again.

"She's suggesting prolonged sessions," I said, scanning the sheet.

"Optional," he pointed out.

I glanced at him briefly, but as his eyes reluctantly rose to meet mine, I looked away again, flipping through past psych assessments. "Are you considering…"

He shot me a look, and I knew better than to press the matter any further. Whether or not he went to therapy was hardly any of my business as his commanding officer, just so long as he was successfully cleared to return to duty, which he was.

Anything else was personal.

"Tseng has taken over special ops training."

"So I have heard."

I didn't doubt that Yuffie had had a thing or two to say about how I had so easily given up and replaced him. I grit my teeth. "I'd like to introduce you back into that program—it was your brainchild, after all, and the squads would learn best under your instruction."

"I will be working _with_ Tseng, then?" He didn't sound overly enthused.

"For now," I replied. "Let's all get back up onto our feet again and we'll see where things go from there." I closed his file and handed it back to him with a meaningful look. "The WRO has taken quite a hit in the public eye. I need my heroes."

He looked grim. "I would suggest sticking Cloud in an infantry uniform, then," he said, staring down at his folder and taking another sip of coffee.

"It'd clash with his hair."

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face before he looked up at me. "Reeve…"

Oh dear. That was a bad tone of voice. That was a 'something serious to discuss' voice. I didn't like that voice unless I was the one using it.

"I wanted to thank you."

Oh, now that's not so bad. Thank you I can handle. "No trouble at all. I'm quite enthused to have you back."

He shook his head slightly. "I mean for taking care of Yuffie."

My eyes widened.

"She's been telling me about all of the things you did for her," he said quietly. "I appreciate it."

I swallowed, trying to shake the feeling that I had just been punched in the throat. "It was nothing."

It was everything. I would have given her _anything_.

"I've got a council meeting in fifteen minutes, and I need to get going. It's good to have you back, Vincent," I said, sticking my hand out and shaking his vigorously (obnoxiously). I grabbed the papers I needed from my desk and left the room before him.

Rude: yes.

Necessary: yes.

There was just something bothersome about the fact that he was able to come back from the brink of Ifrit-knows-what and be deemed "mentally and emotionally stable" when the rest of us (while relieved) were still reeling in the aftermath.

* * *

**A/N:**_ Leave a review, if you don't mind. I'd like to know if people are actually still interested in this story continuing or not._


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